The Cure for Crupulus
by kaitward
Summary: Hermione Granger is infected with a deadly magical disease, and Draco Malfoy is the top healer of St. Mungo's.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** All characters belong to JKR.

"She was provoked! Karma would never do anything like that _normally…"_

"And how did I provoke the beast? By walking past it?"

Hermione Granger slowly closed and reopened her eyes as she listened to the man, Mr. Burberry, and the woman, Mrs. Gifford, argue. On the inside, she felt like yelling at the two people that this wasn't even her job, really, and that she had more important things to do. Outwardly, though, she was gracious and polite.

"Please, Mr. Burberry, Mrs. Gifford. I can see each of your sides clearly. What we need to do now is figure out what is going to happen with Karma."

The two stopped arguing and looked at Hermione, both of their faces portraying that they each thought she was on their side. "These pictures are rather … well, rather horrific, to say the least," she continued, with a quick and involuntary glance at the pictures of his mangled hand Mr. Burberry had provided her. "But if the creature was provoked, there is certainly no need to 'put it down,' as you say." Mr. Burberry opened his mouth to protest, but Hermione silenced him with a raised hand. "There is no way for me to know what truly happened, except for the illegal use of veritaserum. That being the case, the only resolution I can think of is to visit the animal in question."

Hermione was trying to remain professional, but she really didn't know if her resolution was a reasonable one. Her normal job was that of a creature's right's advisor – and she would normally work with part-human creatures, centaurs, merfolk and the like. Today, however, her partner, Lloyd Howell, was out sick, and she had had to take over his appointment with the angry people before her. Lloyd was usually in charge of injuries caused by animals, but not today.

She was drawing off of her past experience of animal injuries, the only experience being when she had witnessed Draco Malfoy provoking and being injured by Buckbeak the hippogriff. She vaguely remembered that, in that situation, there had been a trial and investigations into whether or not Buckbeak had been provoked. She couldn't hold a full trial, and she very much thought that Mr. Burberry _had_ provoked the creature, as the animal in question was a mere Crup – very similar to a muggle dog, and not generally hostile. So she decided to go see the animal, to at least show to Mr. Burberry that she was investigating his side of things.

"Very well, I'll take you to her," Mrs. Gifford said.

Soon after that, they had all apparated in front of the residence of the crup in question. Mrs. Gifford went inside to get her.

"Ms. Granger, I know you are trying to be fair, but you must understand, that animal is a monster, and I did nothing more than walk in front of this house to provoke its attack."

"Mr. Burberry, I know your claims and I know Mrs. Gifford's. I will have to figure this out for myself. I know your injuries were rather … severe, but they are healed now, and I will not have an animal unfairly put down."

Mr. Burberry didn't respond, merely tightened his lips as though he thought it better to keep his thoughts to himself. Hermione was busy being grateful for this when she felt sharp teeth penetrate her calf. She screamed out in pain and dropped to the ground.

"Karma, Karma no!" Hermione heard Mrs. Gifford yelling.

"I told you! She's a monster!" Mr. Burberry was yelling.

Karma was still attacking Hermione's lower leg. The pain was immeasurable. She yanked out her wand and shouted, "Impedimenta!" The crup was blasted away from her leg, yipping.

Hermione felt light headed from all of the pain she was experiencing, but she still managed to recall a spell that encased the animal in a sphere-like cage suspended above the ground – in fact, she had seen Voldemort use this trick on his snake, Nagini, and had found it useful from time to time. "Mr. Burberry, I'll trust you to take this animal to the ministry – tell them wh- what happened… And the crup will be kept until my partner's return to work."

"Ms. Granger, are you…"

But before Mr. Burberry could finish his sentence, Hermione had apparated to St. Mungo's.

---

Hermione arrived at St. Mungo's piled in a heap on the ground. Her sudden appearance in the middle of the waiting room caused a shocked silence to ripple through the room, and then –

"This woman needs help!"

An assistant quickly ran towards Hermione and examined her bloodied and torn leg. Being unable to treat it himself, he used his wand to levitate her. "Out of my way!" he yelled, and with his wand pointed at Hermione, he ran down the hallways of St. Mungos, finally arriving in an empty room. He lowered Hermione's limp body onto a free bed.

Hermione was only vaguely aware of what was happening – her vision was going blurry, and she could feel that she was close to unconsciousness. When she heard the assistant call for a Malfoy, she thought she must be dreaming.

Draco Malfoy's shocked face was the last thing she saw before blacking out.

---

"Granger. Wake up, Granger."

Hermione recognized the voice, but was reluctant to open her eyes and confirm the recognition. She felt a hand on her shoulder shaking her.

"Granger."

Slowly, hesitantly, she opened her eyes, praying silently that the person shaking her awake wasn't the person she thought it was.

But it was.

Draco Malfoy, clad in green healer's robes, was standing beside her hospital bed.

She quickly closed her eyes.

"I saw that, Granger. I know you're awake."

She opened her eyes again, just as slowly as the first time.

"I am obligated as a healer to ask you how you're feeling."

Hermione had been prepared to be at the very least civil to Malfoy, but upon hearing his snarky tone, all of her previous hatred for him surfaced. "And I have the right as a patient to request a different healer. And I do."

"It's a little late now. I've already healed you."

Hermione had almost forgotten why she had come to St. Mungo's, but the memory of the crup attacking her rushed back into her mind now. She lifted her blankets and glanced down at her previously mangled leg. It was now as smooth and flawless as it had been before she'd been attacked. She glanced from her leg to Malfoy repeatedly.

"Well, uh, thanks," she said awkwardly.

"I don't even want to know what you had to do to provoke a crup to attack you like that."

Hermione's first thought was to wonder how Malfoy had known the injury was caused by a crup. Her second thought was to insult Malfoy mercilessly.

"How did _you_ become a healer? I thought they had to be smart."

"They do have to be smart." He replied. He looked extremely agitated, but Hermione figured he didn't want to do anything too bad inside his place of work. "Anyway, you're fine, but by regulations you've got to stay the night. Crups can have diseases, and one may surface in your leg. I will be attending to you, so it would be most helpful if you would try not to get attacked by any other docile and gentle creatures. I don't want to have to heal you again."

"In the future, Malfoy," Hermione said savagely, "Don't. I'd rather die than be healed by you."

"I considered that option."

Hermione wanted to leap out of her bed and slap him, but she contained herself. "I would like a different healer, please."

"No, I think I like this arrangement," Malfoy said, and strolled to the door. "I'll be back in an hour to check on you."

"I can hardly wait."

---

"So who _is_ that?" Simon Baker asked Draco as they walked to the hospital cafeteria together. "I mean, I heard you two going at it – you seem to really hate each other."

"We did – do. We're old school enemies."

"Ah. She was Potter's friend?" Draco nodded absentmindedly. "I don't remember her looking that good in the pictures the _Prophet_ put up a couple years ago."

Draco didn't say anything. He was unwilling to admit it, but he had just been thinking along those lines – that indeed, Granger did look better than she had in their school years. Six years had passed, and those years had been kind to her. She had found some way to tame her hair, she had a nice figure, and her face wasn't exactly hard to look at. She wasn't beautiful, but she was far from ugly.

"You know, you really should get over your old school grudges," Simon said. "Especially with someone as pretty as her."

Draco didn't know why, but the idea didn't instantly cause him nausea.

---

Hermione sat in her bed, fuming. The talk with Malfoy had been extremely angering. He was still the same arrogant little prat he had been in school. She couldn't believe she had ever thought he would change after the war ended.

She remembered one conversation in particular that she had had with Harry and Ron – her arguing that Malfoy would be different now that Voldemort was dead, that he would feel remorse for all of the things he had done to them, that he was influenced by his father and would eventually apologize. Harry and Ron felt differently. They argued that Malfoy had been an asshole on his own, and that he felt no sorrow whatsoever for his school life. Hermione had been so sure that she was right, and it pained her to admit to herself that she hadn't been. She had been ready and willing to accept an apology from Malfoy and had fully expected it to come eventually. After their argument in her hospital room, she was certain he would never be sorry.

She decided that if she had to stay in the hospital overnight, she definitely would not be doing it with Malfoy "watching over" her. Standing up slowly in case her leg showed any after effects of being torn apart, she strode out of her room and went off to the customer service area. When she got there, she asked to speak to the head of the hospital.

"I'll send him to your room, madam, if you'll return there. What was your name?"

"Hermione Granger."

"Ms. Granger, he'll be up shortly."

Hermione had barely made it back to her room when a tall, white haired man walked in after her. For a startling moment she thought the man was Lucius Malfoy, and her heart skipped a beat, but it recovered when she saw that it wasn't.

"I am Herbert Astley, head of St. Mungos. You wanted to see me?"

Hermione sat down on the edge of her bed. "Yes, I did. I wanted to request a different healer."

"You could have simply told that to the one currently attending you."

"Well, I did. But it – didn't go over well. We're old rivals."

"I see. And who is your current healer?"

"Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

There was a long pause. Astley scratched his chin. "Hmmm. Miss Granger, I know you don't want to hear this, but I recommend that you do not switch healers."

"What? Why? We hate each other."

"Be that as it may, Draco is the best healer we have on this staff. He is the best person to look after you, especially considering the high possibility of infections or diseases your case has shown…" The man was looking in a folder as he said this. Hermione assumed it was hers.

"What? High possibility? What do you…"

"You have been attacked by a crup, Miss Granger, and as I assume you know, they are not usually hostile. It is very likely that the crup that attacked you was infected with some sort of disease, and though no symptoms have yet been seen, it is the most possible explanation for the crup's behavior. It could be either a wizarding or muggle disease, and I assure you that Mr. Malfoy is the best learned in both types. He would notice any symptoms of diseases you had in an instant. I believe he is the best choice for you."

"Yes, but the thing is, even if he notices a symptom, that doesn't mean he'll treat it."

"If he values his job, which I am sure that he does, he will. You are, of course, welcome to switch healers, I am just giving you my thoughts."

Hermione did not want to have Malfoy as her healer, especially if he would have to consistently check up on her, but she was also very reluctant to downgrade to a less experienced and qualified healer. If it was true that Malfoy was the best, then she could hardly reason to herself that it was smart to give him the boot…

"Well, I suppose if he's the best."

"He is."

"But I reserve the right to switch at any time!"

"Of course."

Hermione felt the need to argue with the man, but could think of nothing to say. "Well.. Fine."

"Get well soon, Miss Granger," Herbert said, and walked out.

---

"Mr. Malfoy, old enemy or not, I will not have you treating the patients of this institution badly. If there is ever any cause for a complaint, you have done something wrong."

Draco stayed silent. He hadn't thought that Granger would report him.

"She requested a different healer. I told her you were the best, and she seemed to change her mind. Give her reason to change it again, and she is the last patient you will have for a long time."

"Yes, Mr. Astley."

"You will treat her like you would any other patient. No one has ever complained about you before and she should have no reason to do so from here on. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Mr. Astley."

"And should I find out that you ignored a symptom, or mistreated her in any way…"

"Do you really think I'd risk my job like that?"

"No. And I'm glad you realize that to do so would risk your job."

"She provokes me, you know."

"She can say whatever she likes. She is not employed by me. I expect better of you, Draco."

Draco suppressed a sigh with great difficulty. "I understand, sir."

"Now go. I believe you have a patient to attend to."

Draco left the office in a horrible mood. How did Herbert expect him to be nice to Granger when she had just tattled on him and risked his job? He was furious, and yet he was expected to act polite and gentle to the woman he hated most in the world. He had a brief flashback to Professor McGonagall: "Being a healer won't be easy, Mr. Malfoy."

"I never expected it to be _this_ hard," he muttered to himself before opening Hermione's door.


	2. Chapter 2

"How are you feeling, Granger," Draco asked in a monotone as he entered Hermione's room.

"Just fine, thank you," she said, not looking up from the magazine she was reading.

Draco performed a few quick spells to check on Hermione's heart, breathing rate and temperature. Everything seemed normal.

"I need to see your leg, to make sure everything is okay." Normally he would ask permission, but in this case, he just flung the blanket off of Hermione's leg and examined it. What he saw did not please him – a greenish hue was starting to form. He didn't mention this to Hermione, and tried to keep his voice neutral as he asked, "Have you noticed anything abnormal? Any unusual pains or marks?"

Hermione pretended not to be concerned as she idly stated, "No." But she had noticed that her leg was tingling in a slightly painful way, and that the tingling was slowly traveling up to her thigh.

"Are you sure?" he prodded. He knew that if the greenish color was surfacing, she may be feeling some pain in her leg.

"Quite sure," she responded, still without looking at him.

Draco was getting irritated, so he reached down and pinched Hermione's calf. He barely squeezed it at all, but Hermione's gasp of pain was loud.

"You will find, Granger, that if you do not tell me the truth about your symptoms, I won't be able to help you very much." He paused while she rubbed her calf, looking indignant. "Now I ask you again. Have you noticed anything abnormal?"

Hermione looked worried and angry at the same time as she said, "Well, my leg _has_ been hurting a bit. A weird tingling feeling."

Draco tried to keep calm. He asked, "And where is the pain, specifically?"

"Ummm. Well, it started in my calf, you know, where the bite was, but it's been moving up my leg."

Draco's face instantly drained of all color. Hermione noticed it immediately.

"What? What is it? What's wrong?"

Draco didn't answer, and instead flicked his wand in a hurried motion. A paper airplane sprang from it and flew away.

"Malfoy, tell me what's wrong with me!" In answer, Draco drew back her sheets again and bent her leg so that Hermione could see the pale green color of her calf. It had already gotten worse since Draco had last seen it. "What.. what does that mean!"

"It's strange, Granger, with all the books you've read, that you don't know." He tried to sound malicious, but he was too concerned to do it properly. "A green leg after a crup bite can be two things. One is harmless – the other, not so much. Some people have an immunity to it, I suppose, but the area of attack still turns green. That happened to Mr. Burberry, another man who was attacked by a crup recently. However, if pain accompanies the green tint…" Draco trailed off.

"Then what, Malfoy? Then WHAT?!" Hermione was getting rather frantic, and did not like Draco's worried expression. Just then, Mr. Astley burst into the room.

"I got your message." He strode over and examined Hermione's leg. "We have to stop the spread." Draco nodded curtly, and Hermione now had tears of panic streaming down her face.

"Will somebody PLEASE tell me what's going on?"

Draco almost called her Granger, but in the presence of his boss he held back. "Miss Granger, you have a disease called Crupulus. If a crup develops it, he becomes quite aggressive and violent. It can be passed into a human through a bite. It doesn't happen often…" He turned to Mr. Astley for help.

"Miss Granger, we have to stop the infection from spreading to your entire body before… before it is too late. This will require drastic measures." He paused, trying to think of an example. "You attended Hogwarts, correct?"

Hermione nodded hurriedly.

"Then you knew of Headmaster Dumbledore?"

Another nod. She had no idea where this was going.

"Did you see his right hand shortly before he was killed?"

This time, Hermione's face drained of all color. She nodded again, this time more slowly.

"Well… Similar things may happen to your leg. Unlike Dumbledore's hand, however, it will be able to be fixed, but not until we are sure the infection has been cured. The problem, of course…" Astley paused, looking to Malfoy. Hermione's eyes frantically darted between them both.

"The problem is that no one knows of a cure. No one who has contracted Crupulus has survived."

-----

Hermione didn't have time to begin the crying that she desperately wanted to do, because things were being explained to her so fast.

"We will have to put you to sleep for the procedure, or the pain would be excruciating." Astley said.

"It will still be quite painful when you wake up," Draco added.

"You will be staying with us for quite a while," Astley continued.

"The basic procedure will be to do a magical severing of the leg," Draco said, and when Hermione gasped, he explained more thoroughly. "By magical severing, I mean that your leg will still be attached, but all of the blood vessels and tissue will be magically prevented from bringing back any substance from your legs – blood, lymph fluid, etc. Your leg will be cut off from the rest of your body, but not _actually_ cut off."

Hermione seemed to relax, but then Astley spoke again. "Of course, your leg will take on a similar appearance to Dumbledore's hand, the major difference being that your leg will be green." Hermione felt as though she would vomit.

"Completely reversible, of course," Draco said. "If…" He was going to say 'if you survive,' but thought better of it. "If it needs to be." The implication was still there. More tears were coursing down Hermione's face. "We need to do it now, Gr.. Uh. Miss Granger. I'm going to put you to sleep."

She nodded, but then stopped. "Wait," she said, as Draco raised his wand. "Can you.. can someone call Harry and Ron? And my parents? To tell them what's happening?"

"We will send owls to them promptly, Miss Granger, though they will not be permitted to visit for quite a while." Mr. Astley said this. Hermione didn't argue, just nodded. Without further talk, Draco raised his wand and muttered a spell that put Hermione into a dreamless, wakeless sleep.

The procedure was quick enough – a very complicated incantation that Draco muttered quietly, which would magically squeeze off her leg from the rest of her body, similar to a tourniquet. In essence, her leg was severed. The infection was contained in it, and it would start decaying very shortly. Already the whole leg was green.

Though the leg was not truly severed, Hermione would not be able to walk. She would be bed ridden for her entire stay at St. Mungo's.

Astley watched the procedure, but did not help much. He only assisted in the aftercare – they magicked a cast around her leg, so that she wouldn't have to see its ghastly appearance, and Astley administered a pain potion. It would not get rid of all the pain, but it would help significantly. When they were through, the two men still looked very worried.

"There's no cure for this," Draco stated obviously. He just wanted the other man's opinion.

"You'll have to find one, then," Astley said.

"Sir, you know there have only been a few cases of Crupulus – I mean, look at its name! It's so uncommon no one even named it properly. How are we supposed to find a cure?"

"_We_ won't be finding one. _Yo_u will be." Draco just stared. "I know this is unorthodox, but this is an unorthodox case. Draco, I am taking you off of normal duty at St. Mungo's. Your duty will be to care for Miss Granger and to hopefully develop a cure. It would be a shame to see such a young, pretty girl die."

"You're kidding me," Draco said angrily. "My job now is to take care of her? And find a cure for a disease that no one else has been able to find?" Draco shook his head. "I think you're going a bit crazy."

"I am your boss, Draco. You will do as I say. No more new patients for you – She is your top and only priority." When Draco groaned, Astley added, "You are the best healer I've ever employed. You are incredibly gifted at what you do, Draco. And I have no doubt that you can find a cure. If anyone has a hope of it, it's you. I know you aren't fond of this girl, but that doesn't mean you want to see her die, does it?"

"Of course not," Draco spat out, offended at the suggestion.

"Good. Then I suggest you start your research." Astley turned and walked out of the room, but stuck his head back in for a final comment. "Oh, and don't forget. She should be quarantined – apart from you of course. We don't know much about this disease, it could be contagious. Apply protective spells to yourself when you're with her, and don't, under any circumstances, allow visitors. She'll have to communicate by owl. This is a deadly disease – explain the circumstances to her friends and family and I'm sure they'll understand."

"Herbert." Draco said before the man could leave. "You should probably be the one to explain this to her friends. They kind of hate me…"

But Herbert Astley walked away without another word.

* * *

_Potter and__ Weasley,_

_ I regret to inform you that your dear friend Hermione Granger has been infected with a rather deadly disease called Crupulus. It is not common, but not unknown. She was attacked by an infected crup earlier today and was brought to St. Mungo's for care. After treating her wound, we discovered the infection. _

_ My boss insists that you know about her condition, at her own request. However, she is not permitted to have visitors at the moment; she is quarantined. I know you'll try and visit anyway, but don't bother. Her disease has not been studied much and she may be contagious. Sadly, no one who has ever had Crupulus before has lived, but you will of course be happy to know that I have been assigned to work as Granger's healer, and I will _surely_ find a cure._

_ Regards,_

_ Draco Malfoy_

_

* * *

  
_

_ Dear Mr. and Mrs. Granger,_

_ I have grim news. Your daughter, Hermione, has been brought to the wizarding hospital of St. Mungo's under some very serious conditions. Earlier today, Hermione was attacked by a crup, which is a breed of wizarding dog. The crup was infected with a disease, aptly named Crupulus, and has passed the disease onto Hermione._

_ This disease is extremely rare, and not much is known about it. As such we at St. Mungo's are currently keeping her quarantined. This means she will not be allowed to have visitors until we are sure she is not contagious. Rest assured that she will be well cared for. _

_ I feel that I should tell you that the outlook is not good. In the few cases of this disease noted in history, none have survived. However, I have been assigned to research and develop a cure for your daughter's illness, which I fully intend to do. If it seems a cure is not reachable in time, you will be allowed to visit her._

_ I am very sorry, and assure you that I will try my best to cure your daughter. I don't mean to brag, but I am the top healer at St. Mungo's, so she is in the best of hands. I will keep you updated on her condition. Hermione sends her love._

_ Regards,_

_ Draco Malfoy_

_Via St. Mungos Wizarding Hospital_

* * *

_ Ferret,_

_ We'll be there soon, and we'll break down her door if we have to._

_ Cheers,_

_ Potter and Weasley_

_

* * *

  
_

_ Potter and Weasley,_

_ I am very sorry that you had to be so rudely escorted off of the premises earlier today. As I told you via letter earlier, Granger is not allowed _any_ visitors. Not even famous ones._

_ Please do not attempt to visit her again._

_ Yours truly,_

_ Malfoy_

_

* * *

  
_

_ Dear Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley,_

_ I understand that you are both very close with Hermione Granger, and I understand your want to see her. However, I ask you to understand that she is in a very delicate state and could be highly contagious. Your sentiments that you would rather catch the disease than not see her are sweet, but it is our job at St. Mungo's to ensure the safety and health of all wizarding people. I assure you that Miss Granger is being cared for by the best healer I employ, and I do hope that he will be able to develop a cure for her disease._

_ If a cure is not found, visitation will be allowed. Until then, I will keep you updated on her condition. You can also write owls directly to her._

_ Sincerely,_

_ Healer Herbert Astley_

_

* * *

  
_

_ Dear Mr. Astley,_

_ We understand your concerns about Hermione. We won't try to visit again, as long as we are kept updated about her condition._

_ However, we do have one request. The healer you have assigned to Hermione, Draco Malfoy, is not the best healer for the job. He hates Hermione and won't try to cure her at all – in fact he'll probably try to kill her. All we request is that a different, better healer care for her. _

_ Thanks for understanding,_

_ Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley_

_

* * *

  
_

_ Dear Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley,_

_ I assure you that Draco is the best and I will not have you questioning my choices. Draco and I know what is best for Miss Granger at this time and we will take any actions necessary to save her._

_ I know that you are scared for your friend, but Draco will be trying very hard to find a cure. I have already seen him researching. If I do find that Draco is doing anything but helping Miss Granger, I will promptly fire him._

_ Best wishes,_

_ Healer Herbert Astley_


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Sorry if the chapters seem to end abruptly, I'm not really good at deciding where to cut them off.

When Hermione woke up, a scream of pain escaped her lips. Her leg felt like it was on fire. It hurt worse than when the crup had actually bitten her. She tried to grasp her leg, to try and massage some of the pain away, but it was wrapped in a hard cast. She gasped loudly as another stab of pain went through her leg. Looking around, she saw her wand lying on the bedside table. Grabbing it, she sent a patronous message to Draco, because she didn't know how else to contact him.

Draco entered her room a few moments later. She was crying now, the pain was so bad. She looked at him pleadingly without saying anything. To be a smartass, Draco wanted to ask her how she was feeling, but he could tell she was hurting badly, so he didn't. He flicked his wand and a bottle of blue potion appeared in his hand.

"Drink this," he said, handing it to her. "It should cool your leg. Make the burning go away." Hermione downed the potion faster than anyone Draco had ever seen. She wasn't really supposed to drink the whole bottle, but judging from her expression, the pain was intense, so Draco let her. She made a soft sigh as the potion worked on her leg. After a minute, Draco asked, "How's your leg feel?"

"It still hurts. But at least it doesn't burn. It just throbs." Hermione looked at her leg and asked, "Why is it in a cast? I didn't break any bones."

Draco hesitated, and then said, "Well, it's more of a visual block. Your leg's going to be looking pretty gruesome, so we covered it." Hermione instantly tried to lift the top of the cast and view her leg, but Draco gently placed a hand on the top of the thigh and pushed it back down. "Trust me; you really don't want to see it." Hermione looked shocked at the gentleness of his touch, but stopped trying to look.

"Did you owl my parents and friends?" she asked suspiciously. "When can I see them?"

"Not for a while, Granger. Remember? No visitors. You might be contagious."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "You're in here."

"I am a healer and have cast multiple protective spells on myself. Would you rather no one came in to look after you?"

"Of course not," Hermione grumbled. "I was just wondering."

There was an awkward pause.

"So anyway, Granger, I have been given the happy task of caring for you and finding a cure for your disease."

Unexpectedly, tears leaked out of Hermione's eyes as she was reminded that Crupulus had no cure.

"I'm going to die!" she wailed as Draco stood there looking shocked. He didn't do well with crying, so he decided to act offended.

"Excuse me, Granger, but I am the best damn healer alive, and if anyone can find a cure for you, it's me. So don't write out your will just yet."

Strangely, this comforted Hermione, and she stopped sobbing, though tears still flowed down her cheeks. "I'm going to die, and Draco Malfoy is the last person I'll see." She mumbled it bitterly to herself, though she knew Draco would hear her.

"Oh, Granger, don't be silly. If your death is inevitable, visitors will be allowed."

Hermione's eyebrows lowered. "How can you be so insensitive? You don't even care if I die, do you? And to think Harry, Ron and I saved your miserable life. Remember the fiend fire, Malfoy? Remember how you and Goyle almost died in it? Remember how we pulled you and Goyle onto our brooms, risked OUR OWN LIVES to save yours?" She yelled this last part, looking murderous. Draco felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. He tried not to remember the fiend fire. He turned to stride out of the room, his face flushed with anger and shame.

"By the way," he said before he closed the door, "the pain will get a _lot_ worse." And he left.

---

Draco was right – the pain got much worse. And the only way Hermione could relieve it was to summon Draco. It made her feel ill knowing that he was in charge of her health and pain levels, and she didn't want to call him in to help, but when the pain got so bad she couldn't resist anymore, she utilized St. Mungo's calling system and pressed a red button near her bed. Apparently it alerted Draco in some way that she needed him. He strode in a few minutes later, still looking angry. He summoned another bottle of the blue potion. When she had drunk the potion and the pain lessened, she said, "I want to find the cure."

"What?" Draco had been leaving, and so he turned back around.

"I want to find the cure." She paused, and then for good measure added, "I don't trust you."

"That's sweet, Granger," he said, and turned to leave again.

"Malfoy! I'm serious. It's not like I have anything better to do."

"Granger, research to your heart's content, but I'll be doing it, too. It's my job. You may think you're smarter than I am, but I'll remind you that I'm the healer here. I know much more about healing magic than you do." He turned to leave again.

"I'll need books."

"That's right, Granger, you will." He didn't look back.

"You'll have to bring me some."

He was getting very irritated. His shoulders tensed, and he wanted so desperately to refuse her request, but he knew he would have to do what she said, or risk losing his job. "I'll do it when I get the time."

"I'd like them now, please," Hermione said sweetly. Draco still wasn't looking at her. He breathed deeply.

"Of course, _Miss_ Granger," he said, just as sweetly, and finally exited the room.

He was going to get her a few old and moldy books to bring her, but he thought better of it. She would just request more, and refusing her requests may mean a report to Astley. He then collected a few medical dictionaries and similar books to bring her, ones that he didn't need. But then he thought about it, and figured she would need to be moved to a different room soon anyway, so bringing the books to her would be a waste of effort.

Draco thought she should just be moved to a less frequently used room. But Mr. Astley was firm that her room should be private, isolated, and comfortable, and most importantly of all, have its own private bathroom. She was being moved to a room on the top floor, which was where all the offices were. She would be much closer to Draco's office then, which was important, Astley said, given the pain she would be experiencing.

Astley also made the bizarre request that Draco turn his office into a bedroom, so that he could stay at St. Mungo's overnight during Hermione's stay. Draco had only agreed because he lived alone anyway, and it would mean better access to the potion supplies and books he would need to make a cure.

So now he was walking back to Hermione's room to move her.

When he entered her room with no books in tow, Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but Draco held up a hand to silence her.

"I'm moving you to a different room. Your books are waiting there."

"Why am I being moved?" she asked.

"Because this is a temporary patient's room. You're being move to a more … comfortable room." He had been going to say permanent, but had held his tongue.

"Oh." She had known what he meant. "Okay, let's go."

He knew he shouldn't levitate her with such a heavy cast on her leg. With her floating through the air in a standing position, and the cast dragging down on her leg, it could cause the leg to pull off – it wasn't very firmly attached to her body at the moment. However, the idea of carrying her was repugnant, so he decided to levitate her anyway. If she noticed he was doing anything wrong, she didn't say. He floated her off of the bed and led her out the door in front of him. As soon as they left the room, a team of assistants went in to disinfect it. Hermione's right leg felt very heavy to her; she supposed it was because of the cast.

They went up the elevator, Hermione awkwardly hovering next to Draco, neither of them saying a word. Draco floated her down the hallway towards her new room. Unfortunately, Mr. Astley saw the way in which he was transporting Hermione. He didn't bring it up in front of her. "Miss Granger, how are you feeling?"

"Good at the moment, sir, thank you," Hermione responded, unaware of the murderous glare Astley was giving Draco.

"Good. I hope that you'll like your new room. Draco, I'd like to see you when you're done situating Miss Granger."

"Of course, sir," Draco responded quietly. Astley walked down the hall back towards his office, and Draco floated Hermione into her new room.

"Oh, this is much nicer," Hermione said, not even realizing who she was talking to. The room had a normal looking bed rather than a hospital one, and it was bigger. There was a desk in the corner and a window, which the other room had lacked. It also had a door leading to a separate bathroom and a bookshelf filled with medical books, the one thing in the room Draco had been responsible for.

Draco levitated her over the bed and dropped her down onto it unceremoniously. He then used his wand to move the blanket from under her to over her.

"As you'll see, you still have a call button," Draco pointed it out. "Your bed can be manipulated into a sitting or laying position, or somewhere in between," he demonstrated by making the bed sit straight up. It surprised Hermione, who gasped and looked at him angrily. She made it recline slightly, so she was half sitting and half lying.

"You'll notice that I requested a small medical library for your perusing," Draco said, indicating the corner. "There's a desk for you to research on, though you can't walk, so you'll need to ask me to come in and move you. If there is anything else you need," Draco added, bowing slightly, "_please_ let me know." He said the last bit sarcastically, but Hermione was ignoring him, trying to read the titles of the books from where she sat. Draco left the room and went to Mr. Astley's office. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," Mr. Astley called. Draco entered the room and sat down without being asked. "Draco, hello. I had a matter to discuss with you."

Draco's face was already becoming bright red.

"I suppose you understand Miss Granger's condition?"

"Yes, sir," Draco mumbled.

"You understand that, at present, her leg is magically severed from her body?"

"Yes, sir."

"I trust that you understand the implications of such a thing?"

Draco took a deep breath. "Her leg is not strongly attached to her body."

"Good, good," Mr. Astley said. The calm voice was scaring Draco more than if he'd been shouting. "May I ask, then, why you chose to levitate Miss Granger, in a standing position, with her weakly attached leg hanging freely in the air with a twenty pound cast aiding gravity in pulling it down?"

Draco did not want to admit that he simply had not wanted to touch her. "I wasn't thinking, sir." A huge lie, but no way was he telling the truth.

"Draco," Mr. Astley said, leaning back in his chair. "I have come to believe that you value your job very much." He paused, and his face turned angry. "I do not like having to question my beliefs."

"Sir, I _do_ care about my…"

"If you let your schoolboy grudge affect the way you treat a patient _one. More. Time._ You will no longer be employed by St. Mungo's. Her leg could have fallen off, and you bloody well knew it when you decided to levitate her." Draco was looking down, extremely ashamed. "Don't. Let it happen. Again."

"Yes, Mr. Astley."

Draco left the room feeling that he had never been more ashamed of himself.

---

Draco's research was interrupted by a crash and a scream.

He ran into Hermione's room, expecting the worst. He saw her lying on the floor between her bed and desk, crying, her leg stuck out at an odd angle. The chair to the desk had been knocked over. He rushed over to her.

"What happened?" he asked.

Hermione didn't say anything, just held up her hands for Draco to help her up. He grabbed her by the elbows and pulled until she was in a sitting position. Then he unceremoniously grabbed her beneath the armpits and lifted her effortlessly back into the bed, setting her butt down first and then lifting her legs on after her. He pulled the blankets back up over her.

"What happened?" he repeated. Her face was tear-streaked and red with embarrassment. She whispered something inaudibly, looking down. "What?"

"I tried to walk," she mumbled, not looking at him. He tried not to overreact.

"Why?"

"Because I didn't want to ask you to help me," she said. She was swirling her finger in circles on her blankets.

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. "Granger," he said slowly, "Get over your Gryffindor pride. You can't walk. You can't get to that desk without my help. You could have broken a bone or knocked yourself unconscious. Do you understand me? Don't do it again. I'm here to help you. If you want to get to your desk, just fucking ask me. It's my job." She didn't say anything. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, alright? I understand." Her face was glowing bright red by this point.

"Good." He paused. "Did you hurt anything?" he asked, as he righted the knocked over chair.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then why are you crying?"

"Sod off, Malfoy. None of your business."

"As your healer, I very much think…"

"It's not because of something physical, okay?" she snapped. He backed down and turned to leave.

"Wait, you prat!" she called. "I obviously want to get to the desk." He had forgotten why she had tried to walk.

"Right." He pulled out the chair to the desk. Hermione expected him to levitate her over, so she was shocked when he pulled down her blankets and lifted her bridal style. Her robe was not very long and so he was touching a lot of bare skin.

"What are you…"

"I thought about it. It's probably best I don't let your leg just hang there while I levitate you. It's not very strongly attached to your body right now, and the cast is an added weight. It could be pulled off. So I'm carrying you," Draco lied. She was struggling. "Stop it. It's not like I'm the contagious one." She stopped moving abruptly and allowed herself to be lowered into the chair. "I assume you can get the books yourself?"

"I can do a summoning charm, thank you."

"Good. Call if you need anything." He pointed to an additional call button that he had added to her desk. "And that includes getting back into your bed." For some reason, he felt the urge to laugh. She smiled slightly.

"Yeah, okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I just wanted to say, before you read this chapter, that I know this story isn't exactly realistic or anything. I don't know anything about creating cures for diseases or how hospitals, magical or muggle, work. But I kind of like the idea I've got so far so I'm going with it, and just writing what I think I would like to read. What I'm basically saying is, this chapter is probably pretty stupid/unrealistic, I might change it later on, but for now, I'm leaving it. Don't think too much about the science of the disease itself, because I'm sure if you do you'll find some flaw with it that I don't know how to fix. Also, I think I'm pretty bad at British-izing things, but… at least I try? Don't judge my attempts too badly. The only real experience I have with British words is Harry Potter. On a final note, I know I have been updating pretty fast for these first four chapters, but that's because I'd already written them a couple of months ago, and finally decided to post them to see what people thought. I just had to reread/rewrite some parts. But now I've caught up and I probably won't be updating _quite_ so fast, because I'll actually have to be writing it as I go. Wow, this is a huge author's note.

Thanks for all the reviews, here is chapter four.

* * *

A few hours later, Draco heard the call button alarm sound off in his head. The button was charmed so that only Draco would hear its alert, and thus it wouldn't disturb the other patients of the institution. Draco hated it; it was giving him a headache.

"Yes, Granger?" he asked when he walked in and she wasn't writhing in pain. He had been expecting to merely give her some potion and go back to work, but she looked more embarrassed than hurt.

"So, um," she began awkwardly, not really knowing what to say. "What if I, you know.. need to.. uh. Use the restroom?" her face turned bright red as she said it. Draco's face flushed as well.

"I'll have to carry you in and out, I suppose."

"What if I have to go… now?" she said.

"Then I'll have to carry you… now." Draco responded. He walked over to the desk where she was sitting, and put an arm around her shoulders. His arm tingled where he touched her, and he felt sure that his face had never been redder than it surely was right now. Then, bending down, he slid his other arm under her cast and her good leg. He lifted her into the air and walked into the bathroom. That's as far as he had gotten in his plan.

"Now what?" Hermione said, not being able to look at him while she was hanging in his arms.

"Uhhhh," Draco said, completely stumped.

"Haven't you done this before?"

"Never," Draco answered, still thinking. "I suppose I could summon a sort of crutch for you to use to stand while you … undress … Standing shouldn't be a problem; the cast will help. It's the walking that's impossible. Then you can lower yourself onto the toilet, and take a piss, and use the crutch to help you stand while you redress. And then you can call me in to carry you back to bed."

It would be hard to do, but Hermione was much more open to that idea than the two she had been thinking: that she'd have to use a bedpan, or that Draco would have to help her. She shivered involuntarily at the thought. "Are you cold?" Draco asked, alert for any abnormalities in her body temperature.

"No, just… Nevermind. Where's the cane?" Draco summoned one that would stand on its own, so it could support her better. Then he left the room.

Very, very awkwardly, Hermione lifted her medical robe up around her waist. She wasn't wearing anything underneath it, as her clothes had been removed when she'd gotten there. She made a mental note to request more "comfortable" clothes, if she was going to be staying there a long time, and to also think on a better way to go to the bathroom. At the moment, though, she had to go so badly that she wasn't going to waste time thinking about it. She shakily lowered herself onto the toilet, which was hard to do with her right leg being unbendable. It stuck straight out from the toilet as she sat. Hermione knew Draco could hear her peeing, and it made her feel very uncomfortable. _Yes, I'll definitely have to think of an alternative,_ Hermione thought.

When she was finished and had readjusted her clothes over herself, she said, "I'm finished." Draco opened the door and lifted her up again. He set her onto the bed and readjusted the blankets over her. He did this all very quickly, as if to avoid being close to her for too long. Then he turned to leave. "Wait!" she said.

"What is it now?" he asked.

"If I get any pain, can I just.. summon that potion myself? How do I do it?" She looked scared at the mere mention of the pain.

"You can't, Granger. I summon it directly from the supply room, and there are spells so that only healers can do it. If the pain returns, use the call button."

She sighed. "What about overnight?"

Draco scratched the back of his neck. "Uh, I'll still respond to the button."

"You mean you'll be here?"

"Astley has asked me to stay here nights now, yes."

Hermione almost felt bad for it. Because of her, he was now working day and night. She felt like she should apologize, but she still remembered the nonchalant way he had discussed her possible death, so she didn't.

"Is there anything else, Granger?"

"Yes. Could you have someone – a friend or something – bring some of my own clothes here? I don't want to be stuck in this thing the whole time." She plucked at the robe she was wearing. She didn't mention that it had been extremely awkward for Draco to carry her while she had been wearing no knickers.

"That can be arranged."

Hermione felt like she had a thousand questions that she would ask if she had any healer other than Draco Malfoy.

"Then that's it, I suppose." Draco nodded, turned on his heel, and left.

Back in his office, Draco composed a letter to Harry Potter.

_Dear Potter,_

_ Granger has requested that someone bring her some of her own clothes. I do hope you hurry, I am sick of seeing her ass hang out the rear of the robe._

_ Cheers,_

_ Draco Malfoy_

Of course he hadn't actually seen her ass, as the St. Mungo's robes didn't reveal _that_ much. But he did love to play with Potter. He knew that muggle hospital robes didn't tie in the back. _'Cause muggles are perverts,_ he thought to himself.

It was late in the night now, around eleven PM, and he was planning on going to sleep soon. As such, he decided to give Hermione a final check before he crashed, hoping that would prevent any wake up calls he might get.

She was sitting up in bed, reading a book she had summoned from her shelf. Draco immediately noticed that she wasn't covered by her blankets, that she had tied her hair back in a ponytail, and that her face was flushed and sweating.

She looked up when she heard him come in. "I know Slytherins are cold-blooded, Malfoy, but can you please lower the heat in here? It's excruciating."

"It's not the heat. You have a fever." He was certain of it, but did the spell check just to be sure. He was right; her fever was about a hundred and one degrees.

"Is it related to … Crupulus?"

"Yes." Draco summoned a fever reducing potion. "This should help, but it will keep coming back." Hermione drank the potion with a hundred questions in her head.

"So, how long do I… do people with…" She couldn't bring herself to finish the question.

"I thought you just got done reading about the disease for three hours."

"No, I was writing letters. I just started reading."

"For three hours?" Draco looked stunned.

"Well, I had a lot to say, didn't I? Now answer the question."

"It varies. If the infection had reached your whole body, which it would have if you would have continued to lie to me about your symptoms, you would've been dead by tomorrow. As it is, contained in one appendage… I'd say about six months, maybe a little less. But all the symptoms will be there, and your leg will be useless. That's why we're keeping you here. It won't be pleasant."

Hermione's face fell. "I won't be able to see anyone for six months?"

Draco nodded curtly. Hermione was trying to resist more tears.

"What symptoms will I get?"

Draco wanted to tell her to read a book, but as this was not how he would answer "any other patient," as Astley had put it, he didn't. "Pain, high spontaneous fever and extreme chills, occasional vomiting, stomach cramps, weight loss due to lack of appetite, shortness of breath, painful coughing, and, of course, withering of, in your case, the leg." Hermione looked scared. "Oh, and extreme thirst. Your body will be missing the water from your leg. That should be temporary though."

"Will they all happen at once?"

"Not normally, no."

Hermione was on a roll, so Draco flipped the desk chair around to face her and sat down.

"How will I die?" she whispered. "If I do, I mean," she added quickly.

"From a condition similar to muggle Pneumonia. For a while I'll be able to make the symptoms go away, but eventually they become resistant to any potion or spell that we know of so far."

She nodded, looking downcast.

"How's your leg feeling?" Draco asked.

"Just a bit tingly. Like it's fallen asleep." Hermione asked the question she had been wondering since she'd first saw his face hovering over her. "How'd you become a healer, anyway?"

"Same way everyone else does," Draco responded, smirking.

She scowled. "What I mean is, how did you decide you wanted to be one? Your only ambition, as I recall it, was to become a death eater." His comment had provoked her aggression, yet she wasn't prepared for how he reacted. He looked like she had just slapped him, and stood up abruptly. He ran his hand through his hair agitatedly. This caused her to notice for the first time that his hair wasn't slicked back with gel as it had been back at school, and it looked much better that way. For a moment she thought he was going to respond – his mouth opened a bit, but then closed again, and without saying anything, he strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Hermione thought she _may_ have hit a nerve.

Draco walked to his office and started pacing back and forth. He really had no right to be mad; she was right, after all, he had wanted to be a death eater; but he didn't like being reminded of that time, didn't like being reminded how he had almost killed two people, reminded of how Dumbledore had looked when he died. He didn't like being reminded that even though he had wanted desperately to become a death eater, Dumbledore had somehow decided to save him, to basically die so that he could live. It tormented him still; the unbreakable vow between his mother and Snape, and Dumbledore's deal with Snape to kill him if Draco couldn't, so that Draco would be spared Voldemort's wrath.

And he especially didn't like remembering that even after all that, even after all he had done, Harry, Ron and Hermione had saved him, even though he would not have done the same for them.

Making the cure for Hermione would, in his mind, make them even. A life for a life. Dumbledore's sacrifice would not be in vain. And so he was determined to do it. But it didn't help that she made him so damn angry.

He decided to go into her room and set her straight. But when he banged his way in, she was hugging one of her pillows and bawling like a baby. His anger instantly evaporated. It was almost like he felt sorry for her.

When he entered, she had looked up, startled, and the sight of him seemed to make her cry harder.

"Are you in pain?" he asked timidly.

"You… have… no… i… dea." She paused in intervals as she said it, to catch her breath or release another sob. Draco quickly summoned up the blue pain potion. Hermione glared at him as if he had offended her. "That… won't… help."

"What will, then?" he asked, setting the potion on her bedside table. He couldn't explain it, but seeing her crying so hard was not the pleasant experience he had once thought it would be.

"Nothing… you can… do." Her sobs were subsiding, but she now had the hiccups. He sat in the desk chair again.

"So tell me what's wrong."

She managed to keep from making a mean remark.

"Well?"

He noted her shocked expression and, wanting to save face, made something up. "I'm the only person you'll be seeing, and not expressing your emotional concerns to someone can be quite damaging." He counted on his merit as a healer to conceal his lie.

She snorted through her tears. "So what, you're my therapist now?"

"Yes." He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms, waiting.

"I would think it would be fairly obvious."

"Explain it as though you think I'm an idiot."

"Shouldn't be too hard," Hermione muttered, and Draco clenched his teeth without responding. He'd pretty much asked for that one. "Okay, well, first of all, there's a great chance I'm going to die. That is a huge factor and alone it is enough to make me cry. Add to that that I'm quarantined in this room, unable to see my friends or family, with only my worst enemy as company, and… and…" her shoulders were shaking in renewed sobs. "My leg is rotting off, and I'm going to be miserable right up… right up until I…" she couldn't say the last word, and collapsed into sobs again. "All because my partner called in sick today!" Her words were filled with anguish. Draco could not help feeling sorry for her. He had absolutely no idea how to respond.

"Granger," he began loudly, to be heard over the sobs. "I realize that your situation… well, it fucking sucks, alright? I know that. I will try to be civil to you if you extend me the same courtesy. It's hard to be nice if you're constantly reminding me of…" he paused, changed tracks. "Making me mad. Okay? We'll be civil to one another. Is it a deal?" He knew he had to be, anyway, because of his job being on the line, but in making it seem like they were making a deal, he hoped he could get her to be civil back to him.

Hermione wiped her face clear of tears, and nodded slightly.

"Good. Now. Is there anything I can do for you?"

She hiccupped. Draco couldn't help but think how cute it was. "I'm pretty hungry."

"Okay. I'll bring you food."

"And could you mail those for me?" she pointed at her desk. "Please," she added as an afterthought, looking as though she could barely keep from rolling her eyes.

"Certainly."

"Thank you." She settled back in her bed, still wiping her eyes.

Draco stood up, grabbed the letters, and walked to the door. Turning back, he said, "And Granger?" She looked at him curiously. "We'll find a cure."

She watched him walk out with a very confused expression on her face.

* * *

**A/N2:** Also, if you can think of another solution to Hermione's bathroom issue, let me know, because I have NO IDEA how to address it. I knew she would have to use the bathroom eventually, and I'm factoring in that she can't walk and can't be levitated there, so I really have no idea how to do it apart from what I did in this chapter. But I'm sure, given that they live in a magical world, there has to be SOME OTHER WAY. Besides catheters or bedpans or something. There's probably a really obvious solution that I just don't see, and I'll feel like an idiot when someone suggests it.

And also, please tell me about any typos or anything you see so I can correct them. Sometimes I think I caught them all but when I reread I find another one.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **This chapter was much improved by my new beta reader, akaStrobe. I hope you all enjoy it.

Soon afterwards, Draco returned to Hermione's room, levitating two steaming plates of food in front of him. Despite Draco saying that her appetite would be lacking, Hermione was starving. She felt that Draco had never looked more attractive to her than he did just now, with food floating in front of his face.

She summoned up a lap tray and held it out expectantly. Draco sat one of the plates down on the tray; it was full of mashed potatoes with gravy, meatloaf, and broccoli.

"Drink?" she inquired. Draco answered by summoning a huge glass of water. She raised an eyebrow.

"You need your fluids." She didn't question him.

"What time is it, anyway?" she asked with a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

"Around midnight."

"God. It's only been two days?"

"Yeah." Draco could hardly believe it either. He sat down at the desk and started eating his food. Hermione was giving him a questioning look, so he said, "I figured if we're going to start being civil to each other, it should begin with conversation."

Hermione nodded. She was so happy to have food, she would have accepted any request. "So, how did you decide to become a healer?" she asked, risking the delicate question again.

"Well, actually, Snape suggested it," Draco said, feeling a dull pain at the mention of his favorite teacher. He felt somewhat responsible for Snape's death, because in forcing Snape to kill Dumbledore, Voldemort had come to believe that Snape possessed the elder wand. "I didn't know what I wanted to do in fifth year – you know, during career counseling. Snape noticed my best subjects were potions and charms, and that my other grades were pretty good, and he asked about being a healer – because you need good grades across the board to be a healer, but potions and charms are the main courses for it. Well, I looked into it, and obviously I decided that I wanted to be one." He shrugged. "It seems I'm a natural at it."

"Which is good for me, I guess," Hermione said. Draco forced a half smile. "I just never would have pictured you in the business of helping people."

"Oh, well," Draco said, stalling for an answer. "Uh, I just like it." In truth, it had really set in for him after the war, when he had realized that he'd been on the wrong side all along, and had wanted to make up for what he'd done. But he wasn't about to tell _her_ that. "So, what is your career?" he asked, changing the subject. "Anything involving mingling with diseased crups?"

"Not normally, no," Hermione replied. "I'm an animal rights consultant, lawyer, advisor, whatever you want to call it. I work in the ministry, Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

"What does that involve?" Draco asked, trying to sound interested, though he honestly thought it sounded like an extremely boring profession.

"Well, for example, when you went and got yourself attacked by Buckbeak, someone from my department would've been the one to look into the case, see how the attack happened, and decide what would happen to the animal. Of course in your case, your father just paid everyone off, but nowadays…" Hermione trailed off suddenly, uncomfortable at what she had said. She hadn't meant to do it, but her habit of insulting Draco at every turn was burned into her brain. She looked down at her plate, suddenly very interested in the color of her broccoli.

"I thought we were being civil to each other," Draco stated coldly.

"Right." Hermione said, flushed with embarrassment. "Well, anyway… stuff like that." There was an awkward pause, in which Draco let Hermione's guilt fester.

"How did you get bitten, then?" he asked after a considerable period, mercifully changing the subject. Hermione seized on the new topic and began speaking as fast as she could, to try and relieve the tension that had grown in the room.

"A man – a man you treated, actually, Mr. Burberry – was attacked by a crup who was owned by one of his neighbors. He reported it to my department, and _usually_ my partner, Lloyd, is in charge of such matters, but he was sick that day, so I was stuck with it. Anyway, the man was saying the crup attacked him for no reason, the woman kept saying that the crup was provoked, and of course, knowing that crups are kept as family pets, I had no reason to believe it was a hostile creature. I thought Mr. Burberry _must_ have provoked it. But I couldn't say so without investigating. So we apparated to the woman's house, the thing attacked me, and I feel certain that the monster will be put down now." She paused to swallow a large piece of meatloaf. "If it isn't, I'll have to do it myself."

Draco almost – _almost_ – lost his self control and laughed at her last statement. But he didn't want to seem _too_ nice. So instead he just said, "Wow, Granger, I'm amazed you can stuff your face so fast and talk so much at the same time."

She _did_ laugh, because though he was insulting her, he hadn't said it with the normal malice and hate with which he used to insult her at school. It was almost like he was teasing her. "Yeah, well, I don't think I've eaten for two days, and I haven't gotten the chance to properly tell anyone about what happened. Or, actually, to properly talk to anyone about anything."

Draco could tell that she was feeling happier, just by eating and talking. He supposed the social interaction made her feel less alone, though he was rather confused that she could feel any sort of positive emotion while talking to him, the boy she'd hated for so long.

All of the sudden her face changed from an expression of happiness to one of pain, and she dropped her fork as her arm jerked back. Her legs started convulsing, and the tray of food was catapulted out of her lap and onto the floor. Noises of agony were coming from her, and it looked like she was trying to rip the cast off of her leg. "Malfoy!" she yelled, "It… hurts…" It seemed as though she should have no tears left, but they were coursing down her face once more, and Draco flew out of his chair and to her side, pinning her arms down with his hands.

"Don't touch your leg," he said, knowing he couldn't summon the potion until he had a free arm. He waited until her arms stopped resisting his, and then summoned the pain potion. She gulped it down insanely fast, but it didn't seem to help as much as it had the first couple of times. Her facial expression didn't show any relief.

"It feels like it's… crawling!" Hermione looked incredibly scared.

"Okay. I need to look at it. But Granger, I don't want you looking. I swear, you don't want to see it. I'm going to put up a barrier between us, and DO NOT try and get it down. Okay?"

Hermione just nodded, her face still showing her fear. Draco summoned up a magical barrier and prayed that she wouldn't try and see through it.

He magicked the cast off of her leg. What he saw almost caused him to throw up what he'd just eaten. It was shrunken, wrinkled, and moist. It had such a dark green color that it almost looked black. Her toenails had fallen off into the cast, and her foot was almost unrecognizable. He had seen pictures in books, but the real thing was so much worse. The smell of rotting flesh was emanating from the leg.

From what he'd read, the leg was supposed to appear dry, but hers certainly did not. It looked as if it was sweating. He had never treated the disease before, so he wasn't entirely sure what to do, though he knew it shouldn't be wet. He racked his brains, and his thoughts went from absurd – _maybe the cast was making it sweat? _– to moronic – _Should I just use a drying spell on it?_

One horrible thought that he processed was that maybe he had messed up the severing charm, that maybe some vessels were still connected from Hermione's body to her leg – but it didn't make sense, because the infection hadn't spread. To be sure, he walked to the other side of the magical barrier and asked Hermione to show him her stomach; if the infection had spread, it would reach the areas right above her leg first. She looked alarmed. "Just a precaution," he reassured her.

Pulling a blanket over to her to cover where underwear normally would have been, she lifted her robe to reveal her stomach. There was no green there. Draco sighed in relief. "What's going on?" she asked, and her voice was still filled with pain.

"The leg – well, it's _moist_. It's supposed to be dry. But it's not. I'm not really sure …" He paused, not wanting to admit any faults in his knowledge. "I've never treated this before, so I'm not really sure what I'm supposed to do if the treatment doesn't go according to plan."

He should have feigned confidence, because he seemed to have made Hermione even more afraid. "The infection hasn't spread, though, so I can only assume it is a minor inconvenience."

"A minor inconvenience? Malfoy, my leg feels like it's moving – it fucking hurts!" Draco was pretty sure he had never heard her swear before, and it took him by surprise.

"I'll figure it out, alright? Just give me a second." Draco was racking his brains for everything he knew about Crupulus. Of course he hadn't been taught much about it, because it wasn't really a major threat. He had always been told that if Crupulus occurred under his care, to perform the severing charm and try and think of a cure. He guessed that none of his teachers had ever truly thought he would end up with a Crupulus patient. No one had ever taught him what to do if the pain couldn't be reversed by potion, but that didn't mean it wasn't written down somewhere. Even if his teachers hadn't experienced it, _someone_ must have. So he walked over to Hermione's small library of books and took out one, titled _Crupulus, the Incurable. _ _What a nice title,_ he thought to himself as he opened it. He muttered a charm that would magically search the book for key phrases, in this case, "wet," "moist," and "damp." The book landed open on page 251. Draco quickly scanned the paper, looking for his phrases. What he found read:

_In the case that the magically severed appendage takes on a damp appearance, and the patient complains of a crawling sensation, a rare abnormality has occurred, but one that is not too serious. Simply perform a drying spell on the leg and administer a Skele-Gro potion. The wetness and crawling sensation will not reoccur. It is not known why this works, as clearly no bones need to be regrown, but it is known that it does work. Crupulus is a strange disease indeed._

Draco felt like laughing out loud at the fact that his most moronic idea was coming into play. Replacing the book on the shelf, he did precisely what it said to do: he dried Hermione's leg off, and summoned up a bottle of Skele-Gro for her. She didn't even bother questioning him, just drank it down. As she did this, Draco reformed another cast over her leg, one free of her discarded toenails, and then removed the magical barrier, so she could see it again.

"Well, at least it doesn't feel like it's crawling anymore," Hermione said. "I thought taking Skele-Gro when you didn't need it was toxic."

"Apparently not in this case." Her comment did make Draco wonder, though, about the Skele-Gro and why it would work to eliminate her pain. It wasn't a pain potion, and Draco had never heard of it being used in that kind of application. Stumped, Draco moved his attentions to cleaning up Hermione's spilled food. "Are you still hungry?" he asked. He knew he couldn't eat anymore after what he'd seen beneath Hermione's cast.

"No, I had finished most of it anyway," she said. "I just want to go to sleep."

"Okay," he said, and summoned another glass of water for her, leaving it on her bedside table. "Try and drink this. Your body has lost a lot of water, what with all your tears and sweating and your leg … well, you need water."

She agreed, and he left her room to go to his own. He was exhausted. Sleep would have come easily if not for the Skele-Gro potion nagging on his mind. Could it have something to do with the cure? It was the last thought on his mind before he finally drifted off to sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** It's short, but I hope you like it. More D/Hr next chapter. And, once again, thanks to akaStrobe for helping make this chapter INFINITELY better.

Draco was only awoken once that night to give Hermione a pain potion, and they were both so tired that their conversation didn't amount to more than grumbles and grunts. Draco had then gone back to bed, and crashed for another eight hours. He ended up waking up around noon the next day, and it took him a while to figure out why he wasn't in his own bedroom at home. Once he figured that out, he sat in bed wondering why he hadn't been given a rude awakening by either Hermione's call button or Astley. He decided he didn't care; he was just happy to have gotten enough sleep.

As he got ready for the day, two thoughts ran through his mind. The first, which he had had many times before, was _Whoever thought that lime green was a good color for a healer's robes should be crucio'd__._ The next was, _I wonder how Granger is?_

The second thought shocked him. Was he actually _concerned_ about her? Was he actually _caring?_ He decided to chock it up to the fact that it was in his blood as a healer to think about whatever patient he currently had. _Of course_ he didn't actually care how she felt.

Checking in a mirror to make sure his hair wasn't too untidy, he swept out of his office and down the hall to Hermione's room. He opened the door a crack and peered in. She was still asleep. For some reason, he couldn't look away. She looked so innocent and vulnerable as she slept, with her curls draping messily over her face. Seeing her asleep was causing an odd sensation in his stomach. It unnerved him, so he closed the door and left, hoping to pick up some breakfast. The cafeteria staff would surely have moved on to serving lunch by now, but they were very susceptible to bullying. They would make breakfast for _him._

Unfortunately, his trek to the cafeteria was interrupted when he ran into Harry Potter. "Potter," Malfoy said with a customary smirk. "What an unpleasant surprise."

"Malfoy!" Harry replied, equally surprised. "I was just going to your office."

Draco's smirk turned to a scowl. "And why would you be doing that? I told you, Granger is to have no…"

"I have the clothes you requested," Harry said shortly, indicating a trunk that was hovering beside him. "I mean, she requested," he corrected himself.

"I'll take them, then. You may leave." Draco moved to levitate the trunk himself.

"Wait! I have questions."

"Please take them somewhere else, Potter; I am famished," Draco said dismissively. He then realized that taking the trunk back up to Hermione's room would be counterproductive to getting food, so he called over a nervous looking intern and instructed him to take the trunk there.

"Right away, sir," the intern said, and practically ran down the hall. The interns were always so eager to please; they reminded Draco of house elves.

"How is she?" Harry asked, clearly not caring that Draco was starved. Draco allowed Harry to fall into step with him on his way to the cafeteria.

"Fine," Draco said vaguely.

"When will I get to see her?"

"In the unforeseeable future."

"Malfoy, I'm being serious. Give me some real answers. Or do I have to tell your boss you're being uncooperative?" Draco stopped walking and looked at Harry. He was smirking. "Hermione told me all about it. So, tell me. How is she?"

Draco was sure that his face was turning red with embarrassment, but said, "She is normal for her condition. What do you want me to say? If a cure isn't found, she'll die. It wouldn't be a terrible loss…" Draco trailed off, and was very amused at the look of anger growing on Harry's face. "Of course, inventing the cure will add considerable funds to my already large bank account, so I am not opposed to giving it a try, though I have to wonder if it's worth it trying to save a mudblood." Harry was looking a mixture of angry and miserable. Draco didn't know the combination was possible.

"You better watch what you say, Malfoy," Harry said, gritting his teeth. Draco noticed that Harry's hand was in his pocket, and assumed that a wand was in his grip. Draco almost _wanted_ Harry to use a spell on him in St. Mungo's and get kicked out. Again. He wondered if the possible hex he would receive would be worth the possible rewards. He decided it would be.

"Potter, do you really think I care what happens to her? I'm only doing this because it's my job. And honestly?" Draco changed his tone to a stage whisper. "No one's going to be surprised if I can't come up with a cure." He added a wink for good measure.

At this, Harry shoved Draco into an unoccupied room. Draco hadn't been expecting muggle fighting tactics. Harry pushed Draco against the wall, and aimed a wand at his throat. Draco noticed that Harry's eyes were slightly watery. Was he _crying?_ "Malfoy, I swear to you if you do anything to hurt Hermione in any way, I'll hex your balls off. And then I'll file a criminal investigation. You'll be locked up in Azkaban with your dear daddy." Draco knew that as head of the Auror office, Harry could file a criminal investigation even if one wasn't necessary. He probably could get Draco thrown in jail simply for not being able to find a cure. "You better find that cure, Malfoy. Or you'll be sorry."

Draco felt it prudent to not anger Potter further, given his current position. "I _will_ find the cure, Potter." Harry released him at these words, still looking furious. "But not because I want to save her," he added, leaving the room.

Harry followed him out. Draco tried to ignore his presence, but it was hard to ignore someone speaking right next to your ear. "How is the cure coming, anyway?" he asked pleasantly, completely ignoring the fact that he had just threatened Draco with jail time.

"Granger fancies herself a healer. She thinks she is going to come up with the cure." Draco grinned and looked at Harry. "You think I should let her go it alone?"

Again, Harry's face turned to anger. "She could probably do it better than you, Malfoy," he spat. "She's infinitely smarter."

"Well, in that case, I'll tell Astley to assign her the job. After all, I have much more important things to do." Draco was smiling because he knew he had set Harry up to say something he surely didn't want to say. He could practically see the conflict on Harry's face.

"Maybe you should just…" Harry cleared his throat awkwardly. "Stick with it." Another throat clear.

Draco laughed cruelly. "That's more like it, Potter." He continued walking to the cafeteria, and noticed that Harry was _still_ trailing him. "Why are you still here?"

Harry looked awkward, and like he didn't want to be asking Draco any more questions. But Draco supposed his fondness of Hermione won out. "How long will it be before I see her?"

"Months, I'm sure," Draco said unkindly.

"Months?" Harry's face paled. They were nearing the cafeteria. "Do you at least have any _ideas_? About the cure?" he asked condescendingly.

"Potter, don't antagonize me. Yes, I have ideas. Now go away. I've answered your questions, and I wish to eat in peace."

Harry stopped walking, as if he was actually considering Draco's request. Draco wasn't stopping for anything. "Wait!" Harry called.

Turned out Draco _was_ stopping. Too impatient to phrase a question, Draco simply looked at Potter. "Give her these, will you?" Harry pulled a thick stack of envelopes from the pocket of his robes.

"Wrote her a novel, have you, Potter?" Draco asked, taking the envelopes.

"No, Malfoy. Unlike you, Hermione has friends. You know, people who care about her? These are letters from them." Draco knew he should be responding to Potter's insult, but he was simply too impressed by the amount of envelopes he was holding. There seemed to be at least fifteen.

"Didn't seem all that popular at school," Draco muttered, pocketing the letters. He turned to leave again.

"And don't try to read them yourself, Malfoy. There's a spell. And you wouldn't want your boss to find out that you'd been meddling in a patient's personal affairs." Draco didn't even bother turning around. He didn't have to read the letters to know what they probably said; get well soon, we miss you, we love you, and kick Malfoy for us.

Finally, Draco had arrived at the cafeteria. Finally, he'd be able to eat.

Hermione's alarm went off in his head, and he cursed out loud. Several people stared at him. He ignored them.

"Peppy!" he called, and a plump little house elf ran to his side.

"Yes, Master Malfoy?"

"Bring two plates of breakfast to room 500. Top floor, with the offices. And be quick about it."

"Of course, Master Malfoy." The house elf ran off, and Draco turned to make his way back to where he had just come from. He decided that if what Hermione was suffering wasn't excruciating, he'd be really pissed off.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Thanks to Marauders' Fifth Wheel, I will be changing the rating of this story to a T for language content. I wasn't really sure what to rate it, but it's better safe than sorry. Thanks for the suggestion, MFW. And thanks to everyone for the reviews. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and I am writing the next one at this very moment.

* * *

Draco banged into Hermione's room, still quite angry from his encounter with Harry, expecting nothing less than seeing her writhing on the floor in agony.

But there she was, sitting up in bed, looking as though she had just woken up.

"Why are you not writing in pain?" he snapped at her.

She looked quite stunned. "What do you mean?"

"What I mean is, you called me up here. With your _emergency_ button. And from what I can see, you have no _emergency._ So pray tell, why did I get called?" Draco's face was livid.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked rather frightened. "Uh, I had… a question?" she said, unsure of herself. "I thought.. you were right down the hall, so I didn't think.. it would bother you?" She was phrasing everything as a question, and it was only enhancing Draco's frustration.

"I wasn't down the hall, actually. I was getting some breakfast. I was very, very far away from here." Draco very much wanted to yell and rant, and tell her that her friend was a prat, but he was so angry that she had called him up with no good reason that he couldn't find the words. He ran his hand through his hair, trying to control his temper.

"I'm … I'm sorry, Malfoy. I won't do it again." She looked scared, and Draco almost felt bad for it. After all, it was Harry who had angered him, not her.

"Just ask me the question, Granger." She looked like she would rather keep her mouth shut. "Spit it out."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "How am I supposed to shower?" He did notice that her hair was looking a little haggard, even compared to normal. For some insane reason that Draco couldn't explain, it made him feel less angry. Like he wanted to laugh.

"I don't know. I would say you can't, with that leg." He didn't want to think about what it would be like to try and help her shower.

"Malfoy, I'm going to be here for months. I'll stink." She talked slowly, as if she was scared of angering him further. "There's got to be some sort of .. I don't know, self-showering charm. Don't you know of one? Haven't you had bedridden patients before?"

"Actually, no," Draco said pompously. "I always heal them quickly." He paused to allow this to sink in, and dared hope that Hermione might even be impressed. "But one of my colleagues might know of a charm, I suppose. I'll ask."

"I appreciate it. I need something other than _Aguamenti_," she said. Draco couldn't help it; he laughed at the image of Hermione pouring water all over herself and her bed. Hermione's expression was half shocked, half laughing. Of course, he _had_ been snapping at her just a moment ago, and now he was laughing. He guessed it would be a little confusing.

He noticed the trunk sitting next to her bed. It reminded him of the letters Harry had given him. "Potter brought these," he said. "Should occupy you for…" he paused. "I don't know, the entire time you're here?" She giggled as she took them, and for some reason he felt rather proud of himself. She began flipping through the envelopes, and Draco couldn't hide his curiosity. "Who are they from?"

She started listing names as she read them off the envelopes. "Mom and dad, Harry, Ron, Ginny, George – well, all the Weasleys." Draco should have known half of the letters would be from them. "Luna, Neville, Lavender and Parvati, Ernie MacMillan, Dean and Seamus, Professors McGonagall, Sprout, Flitwick, Slughorn and Vector. Kingsley– "

"Wait. Kingsley? Kingsley Shacklebolt, the minister of magic?" Draco was surprised and slightly impressed. He was fond of Shacklebolt as the minister. When it had come time for Draco's father's trial, Shacklebolt had been fair about it. He wouldn't be bribed, as Fudge had been, but he did take into account that Lucius had basically been against Voldemort from the moment Draco had been given the task of killing Dumbledore. He was still being punished for his crimes, but he did not have the life sentence in Azkaban that many other death eaters had earned. Also, Shacklebolt had given Narcissa a full pardon, because she had told Voldemort that Harry was dead when she knew that he wasn't.

"Yes, the minister. Looks like I'm the one with connections now, huh Malfoy?" she said, smirking pompously.

Malfoy merely snorted, so Hermione moved on. "Here's one from Lloyd – oh, he better be apologizing in this letter – and my boss, Viktor Krum, Hagrid, and…" she laughed out loud as she read the name on the last letter. "Oh, she didn't!" She laughed again. "And Rita Skeeter," she finished, leaving Draco to wonder why she found that so funny.

"Looks like you've got almost as big a fan club as Potter," Draco said, trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. He could think of only one person other than his parents that would care if he got sick. Hermione was ignoring him, and ripping open the letter from Rita Skeeter. She again laughed as she read it.

"Here, read this," she said, holding the letter in his direction. Draco was taken aback, but took the letter all the same. It read:

_Dear Curly-headed nuisance,_

_ I have got word of your illness, and ask your permission to publish about it in the Daily Prophet without repercussions. Or is it just too _personal_ a matter?_

_ Rita Skeeter_

Draco didn't really understand the amusement Hermione was getting from the letter. He handed it back, and raised an eyebrow. "What does she mean, 'without repercussions'?" Draco asked.

Hermione was now crying from laughter. "Oh, you don't know, do you!" she exploded, holding her stomach. "It's classic, Malfoy, just classic. Sit down. You _have_ to hear the story."

Draco, extremely confused and somewhat annoyed that his breakfast had yet to arrive, sat down on the trunk next to Hermione's bed. She turned to him, her face a picture of absolute glee. She cleared her throat and began. "As you know, our dear Rita has a bad habit of writing stories that aren't entirely truthful." Hermione paused, cocking her head. "I guess you _would_ know, since you fed her some of the false information." Draco opened his mouth to retort, and Hermione waved her hand impatiently to shush him. Draco, not so easily quieted, started talking anyway. "I never gave –"

"Malfoy, you told her you'd received bad bites from flobberworms. Now be quiet and listen." Thinking back, Draco really couldn't argue. He _had _given Rita false information. So he closed his mouth, slightly abashed. "Anyway, all of fourth year I wondered how Rita was getting her information. She wasn't allowed on the grounds. There was no way for her to plant microphones. She was writing stories about things she shouldn't have known about or seen. It got me to thinking." Draco was smirking at this point, because he knew how Rita had been getting the information. He was feeling quite superior until Hermione started talking again.

"Long story short, I found out she was an unregistered animagus. She turns into a beetle. But I guess you already knew that. So, I caught her in a jar one day. I recognized her markings. And I told her that if she didn't stop writing untruthful stories, I'd turn her into the ministry. So," Hermione finished, again laughing, "she's been rather scared of me ever since."

Draco chuckled. He had known Hermione was smart, but he was particularly impressed by this piece of information. It had not only been smart, but cunning and sneaky. Not to mention that she had used blackmail. "Granger, I never would've thought you would have a Slytherin side."

Hermione stopped laughing and said, "What do you mean?"

It was Draco's turn to laugh freely. Hermione kept saying, "What? What?" But Draco just kept on laughing.

"I don't have a Slytherin side," Hermione informed him grumpily, arms crossed. "She was doing something wrong. I merely set her straight."

Draco shook his head, still chuckling. "Yes, Granger, that was very _cunning_ of you. Quite _sneaky,_ too, for you to catch her by surprise. And didn't you say you blackmailed her?" Draco tapped his chin with his finger in false contemplation. "Sounds very Slytherin to me."

"No! No. It wasn't cunning OR sneaky. It was very.. very brave and .. chivalrous." Hermione's voice became more and more defeated as she neared the end of her sentence, realizing her loss.

Draco's laughs were renewed. "Pity you weren't in Slytherin, Granger. We could've been friends." This statement caused a moment of severe awkwardness, and Draco's laugh slowly died out. Hermione wanted to mention how it wouldn't have mattered if she was in Slytherin, because she would still have been a mudblood. But she didn't. There was no reason to cause a fight when they had just been getting along.

She cleared her throat. "Well, I have a lot of letters to reply to." She waved them in the air as proof, as if Draco didn't already know about them.

"And I have work to do," he said, catching the hint. He walked to the door. Before he left, he took one last glance at her. He almost, _almost_ apologized – for what, he wasn't quite sure – but lost his nerve and left.


	8. Chapter 7 point 5

**A/N:** These are the letters Hermione received in the previous chapter. Well, some of them, anyway. These aren't really ESSENTIAL to the story, they are just for your enjoyment, but I do think they will help you better understand some things that will come up in future chapters. They are posted in the order Hermione replied to them. (Yeah, Luna's letter is the same as at the end of last chapter, but I moved it here now and I'm deleting it from the end of chapter 7. Originally I was only going to write Luna's letter, but akaStrobe suggested that the letter's would be fun/educational, so I wrote them.)

Next chapter will be posted in a day or two.

* * *

Dear Hermione,

Ron told me about your Crupulus. I don't want you to worry, though, because it's not Crupulus. Your healers are wrong. It's a rare condition called CruMpulus. It's very similar in spelling to Crupulus, so I can see how your healers got confused. It is not deadly at all, Hermione, but is actually very beneficial to your health. I will be contacting St. Mungo's and I expect you will be released when they realize their mistake.

What I want to know is, when did you see a Crumple-Horned Snorkack? Crumpulus is only caused by a close encounter with one, so you must have had one. Why are you being so secretive? You know I've always wanted to see one.

See you soon,

Luna

* * *

Luna,

I hope this reaches you before you write a letter to St. Mungo's. Please, don't bother them. I don't have Crumpulus, Luna, because it doesn't exist. Crumple-Horned Snorkacks are not real. I have not had an encounter with one, because that would be impossible.

Even if Crumpulus was real, I don't have it. What I have can't possibly be beneficial to my health, as my leg is currently rotting off. If you want to see a Snorkack, I'm not going to be able to help you.

Anyway, please don't write to St. Mungo's. They've got the diagnosis right. I've been reading about it and I am positive that Crupulus is what I've got.

Thanks for writing, anyway. I appreciate your concern.

Hermione

* * *

Dear Draco Malfoy,

I am writing to tell you that your diagnosis of Hermione Granger is wrong. She doesn't have Crupulus, she has CruMpulus. An easy mistake to make, I'm sure. Treating the Crumpulus would be bad, because it actually has positive health benefits. She caught it from a close encounter with a Crumple-Horned Snorkack.

I am requesting that you officially revise your diagnosis and release Hermione from the hospital.

Sincerely,

Luna Lovegood

* * *

Lovegood,

I will not be releasing Granger from my care, as it is Crupulus she has, and it is very deadly. However, I will suggest that you enter St. Mungo's yourself. There is plenty of room in the mental ward, and I think you'd fit right in.

There is no such thing as a Crumple-Horned Snorkack, and thus, no such thing as Crumpulus. I am one-hundred percent sure that my diagnosis is correct, and equally sure that you are insane.

Draco Malfoy

* * *

My dear Hermione,

I was devastated to hear that you have been diagnosed with Crupulus. Actually, I know a bit about it. I think my great-great-great-great aunt had it. That was like a hundred years ago though. I didn't know the disease was still around.

It makes me ill to think of you lying there, sick in bed, with that bastard Malfoy looking after you. Just thinking of the way he treated you – and me, I might add – and knowing that your life is in his hands makes me want to floo over there right now and pull a Nagini on the director of St. Mungo's. However, I respect your decision to keep him as your healer since he is supposedly the best.

I'm not going to beat around the bush. You know how I feel about you, Hermione. I know that you have constantly spurned my advances, but maybe this near-death experience will open your eyes. We were made for each other. You've always treated me kindly, even before I got famous. Most people these days only treat me well because I killed that snake – now I know how Harry feels, never knowing if someone likes you for you or for your fame. But you? I know you like me, because you've always been nice. And even knowing that your leg is all shriveled up and green right now, I am still wildly attracted to you.

I am hoping that when you get better, which you will, because I won't accept otherwise, you will go out to dinner with me. It doesn't have to be anything serious, just a casual dinner between old friends, and we can see where it goes. If, after that, you still don't feel about me as I feel about you, then I'll have to move on to stalking you in secret.

One last thing. If you need help paying for the medical expenses, I've got you covered. I have more than enough galleons to last me, and I am more than willing to spare some to cover your bills. I don't like that it will be going directly into Malfoy's bank account, but I would do anything to help you recover.

Yours (Hopefully someday,)

Neville

* * *

Neville,

You need not be worried about the situation with Malfoy. I've got it perfectly under control. I've already talked to his boss, who has assured me that if Malfoy does anything I consider to be out of line, he will be at the very least relieved of my case, and at the very most, fired. Ron, of course, is already planning on getting him sent to Azkaban after I'm cured, which is ridiculous. Trust me, Malfoy is behaving just fine.

I read about your great-great-great-great aunt, actually. I've got a couple of books on Crupulus and I saw the name Longbottom mentioned in there. It was quite interesting. I know you weren't even alive at the same time as she was, so you didn't know her, but she sounded like a fascinating woman. She died too young. The book said she was trying to make people treat house elves more fairly, so I know I would've liked her. I thought I was the only one!

You know I would always be happy to go out to dinner with you. You've always been a close friend of mine. We could invite Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Luna as well. I've been trying to set Ron and Luna up, you know. Don't tell him, but she's got quite a crush on him. I wonder if you ever noticed how she always laughs at his jokes, even the stupid ones? Well, she finally told me she liked him. Ron thinks she's hilarious, so it might just work out. I am trusting you to keep this between us!

On a final note, there is no way you are paying for any of my bills. I won't accept any money you send, so please don't. I don't want to feel like I'm indebted to you, or anyone else. Harry actually offered to pay the bills, too, and I am telling him the same thing.

I hope that Malfoy develops the cure soon, and when he does, I will be looking forward to seeing you and everyone else.

Your friend,

Hermione

* * *

Hey, Hermione.

I'm not even going to try to match your last letter's length, so don't expect much from me.

I want to know a few key things.

First, how is the cure coming along? Is Malfoy actually working on it, or is he slacking off like I'd expect him to?

Second, when can I visit you? I miss you intensely.

Third, I want you to tell me all of the nasty things Malfoy does to you. I'm going to keep a record so that when you're better, Harry has a list of things to send him to Azkaban for. What has he done so far?

You know I'm not much of a letter writer, so this is the end. But I honestly do miss you, Hermione, and I hope you're feeling okay. I know I don't write much, so it probably seems like a lot of work for little reward, but please keep me updated on the happenings at St. Mungo's.

Love you,

Ron

* * *

Hermione,

Harry here, just writing to check up on you.

First off, how are you feeling? I know it can't be good, especially with Malfoy taking care of you, but I hope you're finding a way to entertain yourself. Your last letter to me was long enough. Must've taken you three hours to write it. Only took Teddy five minutes to rip to pieces though. Don't worry; Ginny repaired it and hid it from him. He's developed a weird obsession with ripping paper. I swear, he's going to turn my hair gray faster than he can turn his own hair gray.

Ginny and I are dying to see you. When can we? I know Malfoy said no visitors, and that you may be contagious, but we don't care, honestly. We just want to see you. And isn't most of the population immune to the disease anyway? Ask if he can let us see you. We'll PAY him. He can put protective charms around us, whatever. Writing letters isn't the same as seeing you in person.

Speaking of the disease, you were very vague about it in your last letter. You must not have hit the books yet, or I'm sure you would've transcribed them back to me. What is it? I mean, what's going to happen to you? And how much longer will it be before Malfoy finds the cure?

And how is Malfoy behaving? If he's treating you badly, just tell me and I'll take care of it. It may be an illegal solution, but I promise I'll find a way.

Anyway, Ginny is finished with her letter to you, and for some reason she won't let me read it. I'm going to cut mine short so I can get the letter from her and read whatever secret she is trying to hide.

I love you and miss you very, very much,

Harry

P.S. If you need any help paying the bills, I'm here. Actually, ignore that. I'll just send St. Mungo's the money tomorrow.

* * *

Hey, Hermione. I saw Harry writing a letter to you and decided to do one too. Anything to distract me from Teddy for a few minutes. Age four is the hardest age a kid goes through, I'll tell you that. Don't have one. Not that I have anything to worry about at the moment. Still rejecting Neville? You know, dating a famous guy is actually pretty rewarding. Thousands of girls jealous of you. I'm sure you'd like it. I do.

Then again, you are locked up in quarantine with Draco Malfoy. Maybe I do have to worry about you having kids. How is he treating you? Has he reformed, as you always used to say he would? More importantly, is he still as attractive as he was in school?

I'm going to keep this letter short, as I'm sure Harry's addressed the important issues. Not to mention that Harry is already asking me what I've written in here, and obviously I can't tell him because I mention Malfoy being attractive, and I doubt that would go over well. I'm going to seal this quickly before he finishes his.

Much love,

Ginny

* * *

Auntie Hermy,

I am sad that you are sick. I hope you get better very soon. I am sorry that I ripped your letter.

Love,

Teddy Lupin

* * *

Harry, Ron, and Ginny:

I know I'm sending this directly to you, Harry, but I expect you to show it to both Ron and Ginny.

First of all, Ginny, you have been saying that each successive year of Teddy's life has been the hardest, so I find it hard to take you seriously when you say that his fourth year has been the worst. Judging from my past experience, Teddy is a very well behaved child and you're quite lucky. Harry, if you think Teddy is turning your hair grey, think about poor Mrs. Weasley. She had to raise Ron and Ginny, on top of five other children. And she still manages to have color in her hair.

And second of all, yes, Ginny, I'm still rejecting Neville. I don't care if he's famous, I simply don't like him that way. I feel we are better left as friends, and that's that. I've told you a million times, I'm not going to date someone just because they're famous, I want to date someone because I genuinely like them. And you have no reason to worry about me genuinely liking Malfoy, so there's no reason to worry about me having his children. Good lord.

As for the cure, Malfoy says it's coming along very well. I wouldn't be surprised if he has it done soon. I'll owl when you can visit. I miss you guys a lot, so I hope it's not too long. Harry, I doubt Malfoy cares if you pay him. First of all, his boss told him I'm to have no visitors, and second of all, it's Malfoy. He's already rich. Not to mention he's going to get a big fat payoff if he develops the cure, not only from me but from some potions company. And on that note, Harry, do NOT send money. Seriously. Don't. I can take care of it.

Here's what I know from what I've read. Crupulus is an infection. Right now it's contained in my leg, as I mentioned before. My leg has turned green and shriveled, though Malfoy hasn't let me see it. Apparently it's similar to what Dumbledore's right hand looked like after he touched the ring horcrux. That's what Malfoy's boss told me, anyway. The symptoms of the disease are pain, high spontaneous fever and extreme chills, occasional vomiting, stomach cramps, weight loss due to lack of appetite, shortness of breath, painful coughing, and the withering of my leg.

So far I haven't experienced all the symptoms. Pain, yes, and it's rather excruciating. Malfoy has a potion for it though, so it never lasts long. I've gotten a fever, but there's also a potion. Obviously my leg has withered, but Malfoy says that can be repaired if a cure is found. The disease has proven fatal because after a time of about six months, the symptoms can no longer be contained by potions or spells. They develop a resistance, and the victims of Crupulus die when their symptoms overcome them.

Of course, Malfoy is developing a cure, so I don't have to worry about that.

And Malfoy is behaving just fine, thank you. I think I can handle him on my own. Ron, if he cures me, we definitely won't be sending him to Azkaban for it. That makes no sense.

Write to me often. I'm bored and need letters to respond to. Even your short ones, Ron.

Love,

Hermione

P.S. Tell Teddy that I miss him so, so much and can't wait to see him. His letter was so adorable. And I forgive him for ripping up my letter.

* * *

Ginny,

Much more so than in school.

Hermione


	9. Chapter 8

**A/N:** For some reason, this is my favorite chapter so far. I hope you enjoy it.

* * *

It was three days later, and Hermione was still replying to the letters she'd been sent. She had responded to the ones from lesser friends first; they had been easy. They were just customary "get well soon" letters, and they all pretty much said the same thing: "get well soon, we miss you, kick Malfoy for us." Examples of such letters were from Lavender, Parvati, Ernie, Dean, Seamus, and most of the Weasley brothers.

Then she had responded to her teachers. Their letters had been far more professional, nothing about kicking Malfoy.

Lloyd's letter came next, and she tried her best to not sound like she blamed him for her condition. Tried, but she probably hadn't succeeded.

Then her mom and dad, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, who had always felt like second parents to her.

She had responded to Kingsley next, and then everyone else except for Ron, Ginny, Harry, Luna, and Neville. Their letters would be more personal and long, and so she was still working on them.

She got done with Luna's fairly quickly, laughing as she wrote it. She hoped that Luna would let the issue drop and would not continue to hound St. Mungo's about Hermione's supposed "crumpulus."

Her reply to Neville's letter was long, but fairly easy. Neville had a crush on her. It was fairly obvious to everyone that knew him. She had always been nice to him in school, even before he was really friends with Harry and Ron, and he had taken a liking to her because of it. Even with Neville's newfound confidence, brought about by him slaying Nagini and becoming famous for it, Hermione still didn't like him in that way, as she told him repeatedly. Neville wasn't giving up, however, and his letter deeply reflected that. She kept her tone very platonic and vague in her reply.

Her letter to Harry and Ron, her two best friends, seemed to be the hardest one to write of all. She had decided to write one joint letter to Harry, Ron, and Ginny. Anything Harry read would be seen by both of them, anyway; Harry and Ginny were married and Ron visited them frequently to see his nephew, Teddy.

The first issue she had to address: _How long will it be before we can see you?_

The question caused a lump to form in her throat. She had no idea what to write. She could write the truth, that it may be months, and that if they were allowed to see her, it probably meant she was due to die soon. She could exaggerate; _you can visit as soon as I get well, which should be soon_; but it would be more like lying. She decided on an extremely vague answer: _I'll owl when you can visit._

The next problem question: _what is this disease, exactly?_

Hermione tapped her pen against the paper, leaving random dots of ink. She wrote out a very Hermione-like response, basically citing entire passages of books she had read about Crupulus.

_How is the cure coming?_

The truthful answer would be that she didn't know, because Malfoy hadn't discussed it with her. In this instance, she decided to lie a little, even though she felt guilty about it. She didn't want her friends to worry more than they had to. _Malfoy says it's coming along very well. I wouldn't be surprised if he has it done soon._

And the final question, the hardest one she had yet faced, was the last one in all of their letters.

From Harry: _And how is Malfoy behaving? If he's treating you badly, just tell me and I'll take care of it._

From Ron: _Tell me all of the nasty things Malfoy does to you. I'm going to keep a record so that when you're better, Harry has a list of things to send him to Azkaban for. What has he done so far?_

From Ginny: _How is Malfoy treating you? Has he reformed, as you always used to say he would? More importantly, is he still as attractive as he was in school?_

The overarching question: _How is Malfoy treating you?_

She began an answer and erased quite a few times.

_Malfoy is Malfoy, you know how that is._

But no. They'd take that badly, and come bother Draco's boss. She erased.

_Malfoy is treating me just fine_.

Too suspicious. They'd think he'd made her write that. She erased again. She tried to write the truth:

_Malfoy and I have actually been getting along surprisingly well._

But she found herself too embarrassed to keep it there. She erased again.

_Malfoy is behaving just fine, thank you. I think I can handle him on my own. Ron, if he cures me, we definitely won't be sending him to Azkaban for it. That makes no sense. _

_ Write to me often. I'm bored and need letters to respond to. Even your short ones, Ron._

_ Love,_

_ Hermione_

She wrote a separate letter to Ginny, writing it vaguely so that if Harry or Ron accidentally came across it, they wouldn't understand its meaning:

_Much more so than in school._

---

Later that day, Draco entered Hermione's room quite unexpectedly. She looked up. She was just putting the finishing touches on a few envelopes, getting them ready to send out.

"Perfect timing, Malfoy. You can send these for me." She indicated the letters sitting in her lap.

He was contemplating her, not saying anything, just staring at her with his brows furrowed. When he didn't respond to her, she became worried.

"Malfoy? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"You haven't pissed."

Hermione almost choked on her own saliva. "What?"

"It's been almost four days since you last asked me to take you to the bathroom. Why aren't you pissing?"

Hermione laughed. "I was wondering when you would notice that."

Draco's face grew even more confused. "You should be pissing. I've been forcing gallons of water down your throat. Why haven't you been?"

"I have been." Hermione responded, looking quite smug.

"How, exactly?" Draco asked, quite agitated at the look on her face.

"I've been vanishing the piss, as you call it, directly from my bladder."

"Vanishing… Granger, you could have vanished your entire bladder!" Draco didn't know whether to be madder that she had put her health at risk, or that she had figured out a solution superior to his own.

"Don't be silly. I am _awesome_ at vanishing charms." She folded her arms, still smiling smugly. "It's been working just fine for three days."

Draco scratched the back of his neck, which was a bad habit of his whenever he felt outsmarted or embarrassed. "You should have consulted me."

"I don't need you for everything," she said playfully.

Draco was finding it hard to stay mad at her. She was wearing some of the clothes Potter had brought her, a white tank top with a floral patterned skirt, which looked much better on her than the St. Mungo's robe had. She must have just used the self-showering charm that he had gotten for her from a colleague, because her hair looked freshly washed. It looked extremely soft and fell in soft curls down onto her exposed shoulders. He felt an inexplicable urge to touch it. He also noticed that her good foot had freshly painted toenails. He had always had a thing for feet and found it extremely attractive. But then he remembered that her other foot currently had no toenails and a look of revulsion crossed his face. Hermione must have noticed it.

"Why did you make that face?" she asked, slightly offended. She had noticed him looking her up and down, and the look of disgust she had just seen on his face was quite depressing.

"Nothing. I was just thinking of your rotting leg." He said it unkindly, trying to hide that he had felt any sort of attraction to her.

"Oh." Hermione didn't know what to say to that. "Well, uh. I've got these letters, so. If you could send them, I'd appreciate it." She held out the letters to Draco without looking at him.

He scratched the back of his neck before taking them.

"I'll do that, then," he said. "Do you need anything before I go?" he asked, trying to make up for the rotting leg comment.

"No thank you," she said, still not looking at him. He left the room and walked to his office. When he opened its door, it wasn't empty. His best friend, Blaise Zabini, was sitting in Draco's desk chair with his feet up on the desk.

"Get your dirty feet off of my desk," Draco snapped upon walking in. When Blaise didn't immediately comply, Draco smacked them off himself.

"Whoa, you're in a good mood," Blaise said, holding up his hands defensively. "What's up?"

"Nothing. What are you doing here?" Draco was still thinking of how Hermione wouldn't look at him. He felt bad for what he'd said. She didn't need to be reminded about what was happening to her leg.

"You weren't responding to my owls. I went to your house but you weren't there. I figured this was the only place to get in touch with you. Why haven't you been at home?"

"Astley asked me to stay here temporarily."

"I was wondering why there was a bed in here. What for?"

Draco explained the situation with Hermione.

"You couldn't have told me sooner?" Blaise asked, looking moderately offended.

"I forgot," Draco said honestly. He hadn't had much time to think about Blaise.

"You wound me," Blaise said, holding a hand dramatically over his heart. "I guess this means you won't be coming out for drinks with me and the two lovely women I've arranged as our dates?"

"And how can I be sure they aren't your students this time?" Blaise was the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts, and a few times had mistakenly hooked up with his students in Hogsmeade, only to awkwardly see them in the halls the next day. Draco definitely didn't want to be involved with a school-aged girl. Luckily, he had never clicked with _any_ of the girls Blaise had set him up with, so he didn't have to worry about having accidentally hooked up with anyone underage.

"I've made absolutely sure this time, mate. I've checked the Hogwarts roster. One of them may have a daughter in Hogwarts, but… neither of them are currently attending. So, you coming?"

"I can't," Draco replied. "You always pick stupid women, anyway." Blaise had been trying to set Draco up with a woman ever since he had dumped Pansy. However, Blaise tended to go for appearance over personality, and Draco was usually bored out of his mind with whatever woman Blaise arranged for him. He didn't require someone as smart as himself, but he did want someone who could actually carry on a conversation.

"The stupider, the better, my friend," Blaise insisted, leaning forward. "Easier to –"

"I get the point," Draco said, laughing. In part, Blaise was his friend because he could make Draco laugh no matter how he was feeling. In part, they were friends because Blaise was a hell of a lot smarter than Goyle.

"So, I guess that means Granger would be right up your alley, huh?" Blaise said. "I mean, she's smart, right? Number one in our year."

Draco glared at Blaise. "I don't want to date _her_."

"How's she looking these days, anyway?" Blaise asked seriously. "I saw an article in the Prophet. The picture accompanying said article was not too shabby."

Draco had forgotten there was going to be an article. "What did it say?"

"Nothing about you, obviously, or I would've known where you were." Blaise crossed his arms. "Don't change the subject. How does she look?"

"She looks … fine." Draco said vaguely

"Draco." Blaise scolded him. "You can be honest with me."

"She looks... I don't know. She's not ugly. She looks better than she did back in school, anyway." This answer seemed to appease Blaise.

"I agree," Blaise said, nodding enthusiastically. "And," he added, tapping his temple, "she's got brains. Pretty and smart. That's the perfect combination for you."

"Yes, Blaise. It is. But you're forgetting one thing." Draco stood up, grabbed Blaise by his shoulders. "We hate each other, remember? All my years of torturing her, calling her mudblood? Even if I was interested, which I most definitely am not, because I hate her, she hates me. So. You know. That pretty much finishes that relationship."

"Draco, Draco, Draco," Blaise said, shaking his head. "It's forbidden love! Women dig that shit. I bet by the time she's out of here, you'll be head over heels for each other."

Draco laughed loudly. "That's one bet you're going to lose."

Blaise leaned back in his chair, his arms resting behind his head. He was smiling smugly. "Whatever you say, Draco. Whatever you say."

**A/N:** Credit for the line "And how can I be sure they aren't your students this time?" goes to akaStrobe, as she suggested it.

Thanks everyone for your reviews, now go forth and leave MORE!!


	10. Chapter 9

Draco's conversation with Blaise had almost made him forget his comment about Hermione's rotting leg.

Almost. But not quite.

He had definitely not wanted her to know that he'd been checking her out. That's why he had commented on her leg so rudely. He knew she didn't need to be reminded of it, and he felt bad for his unwarranted viciousness. She hadn't done anything to bother him besides look good. He felt the urge to apologize, and the urge bothered him greatly.

Logically, he knew that it wasn't a good idea to make Hermione not want to see the only person that she _could_ see. She _needed_ to see him. He didn't want her to feel negatively towards him. Emotionally, he did not want to apologize, because he hated admitting that he had done anything wrong.

He couldn't recall a single time where he had ever apologized to anyone for anything, ever. He had never felt any reason to apologize for anything until now. It was odd, because whenever he had offended her in school, with much worse insults, he had never felt remotely guilty, but now, for just one hurtful sentence, the guilt was intense. He wanted to tell himself he only wanted to apologize to keep his job, but he knew that wasn't true. She wasn't going to say anything to Astley. Draco genuinely felt bad.

Hell, he knew her situation sucked. How would he feel if the circumstances were reversed? If he had contracted a deadly disease while doing a job that wasn't even his? If he had _her _taking care of _him_? How helpless would he feel, having to call on her every time he needed help? If there was one feeling Draco hated, it was helplessness. He had constantly felt it when Voldemort was still alive. Given Hermione's strong and independent personality, he was willing to bet that helplessness didn't sit well with her, either.

He really, really didn't want to apologize. It would show vulnerability and weakness. But his feeling of guilt wasn't going to go away with no help. Groaning, he cracked his fingers as if preparing for a fight and gave himself a pep talk. "You can do this."

He entered Hermione's room. She looked rather surprised to see him. She was sitting up in bed with a book propped up on her knees. She glanced at him once, and then looked back down at her book.

_If he's going to be so rude, I'm not going to go out of my way to be nice to him_, she thought angrily. _I won't start a fight, but I also won't start a conversation._

Draco cleared his throat. She didn't look up. He cleared it again. She still didn't look up. He cleared it a third time, obviously loud. Without looking up, she said, "You should summon yourself up some cough drops, Malfoy." Her tone was ice cold.

"I…" he said, scratching the back of his neck furiously. He was getting annoyed that she wouldn't look at him. "I have something to say." He cleared his throat again, thinking he had never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

"Spit it out. I'm trying to read."

"Well…" Draco really, really didn't want to do it. He was trying to convince himself not to. It was like having a devil on one shoulder and an angel on the other. Well, not exactly an angel. Just a less malicious devil. One side telling him not to apologize, to just leave and be done with it, the other side telling him to just make it quick and get it over with.

When Draco's indecisive neck scratching became unbearable, Hermione looked up. She was glaring at him furiously. "If you have something to say, do it. If not, leave. And get yourself some anti-itch potion, for Merlin's sake." Her gaze returned to her book.

Draco spoke as quickly as he could, and his words came together as one. "Granger, I'."

"What did you say?" she asked, glancing up. Her eyes were narrowed, her expression curious. _Did he say what I think he said?_

Draco took a deep breath, forced himself to remove his hand from the back of his neck by clenching both hands behind his back, and tried again. "I said, I'm sorry for what I said about your leg. It was…" he paused, searching for a word. "Insensitive of me."

Hermione's mouth dropped open, though neither of them took any notice of it. Hermione was too stunned to pay attention to her facial expression and Draco was looking at his feet as though he was a child. His hand inadvertently drifted back up to again scratch the back of his neck.

"What?" Hermione said again, after a long pause.

"I said –"

"No, I heard you. Just. Wow. Draco Malfoy apologizing. To ME. Wow."

"Yes, well, I'm just trying to be professional, and –" Draco's embarrassment was rising, and he was regretting his decision to apologize.

Hermione's face broke into a smile as she interrupted him. "I forgive you."

"You do?" Draco asked, looking up.

"Of course."

_Of course._ As if it was obvious that she would forgive him. As if she didn't have multiple reasons to despise him. If he'd known apologizing was so easy, he might've tried it a long time ago.

He sat down on the trunk next to Hermione's bed, as though exhausted from the whole ordeal. He sighed deeply. "Well, that was easier than I thought it would be."

Hermione tried to put a deep meaning behind her next sentence, tried to chock it full of hints. "When people apologize for things they've done wrong, it is a sign of maturity. And a mature person will respond by forgiving the apologizer in question. Even years after the fact." What she was referring to, of course, was to Draco's foul treatment of herself all throughout school, and of his association with the death eaters, and almost getting Ron poisoned. Draco didn't catch the hint.

"What do you mean, 'years after the fact'? It's only been an hour."

Hermione sighed. "I was just speaking in generalities." So much for that.

"Oh. Okay." Draco shrugged, completely oblivious. "Well, I thought you'd like to see this." He flicked his wand, conjuring up a copy of The Daily Prophet. "You've got the front page," he said, pointing to it.

It was true. A large picture of Hermione dominated the front page. She recognized the picture. It had been taken in the Hogwarts kitchens about a year ago, when Hermione had worked alongside the house elves to prove her support of them. It hadn't ended particularly well; the house elves liked her, but they simply did not want to be paid for their work. In the picture, she was kneeling down amongst a mob of house elves, and she was smiling happily while the elves merely looked anxious to get back to work.

**LONDON WOMAN INFECTED WITH DEADLY DISEASE**

_This past Monday, employee of the Ministry of Magic's Department for Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures Hermione Granger was attacked by an infected Crup. The attack resulted in the infection of Granger with the rare and deadly disease known as Crupulus._

_Hermione Granger is an esteemed member of the community. Ex-girlfriend of The Boy Who Lived, Harry Potter, she helped him on his mission to destroy you-know-who's various horcruxes. In fact, in the Quibbler-exclusive interview Potter gave about said horcruxes four years ago, he states that he "couldn't have done it without Hermione." _

_Granger also holds importance in the hearts and minds of various magical creatures with less-than-human intelligence. Centaurs, mermaids, goblins and house elves from all over the country come to talk to Granger about their problems, whether they be important or not. Many wizards and witches have stated the opinion that Granger's work is unimportant. Specifically, esteemed wizard Howard Hulkens, who works as a deadly creatures executioner for the Ministry, states that Granger's work is "unneeded, a complete waste of effort and money." He also states that the creatures Granger considers as equals to humans are "stupid, dirty animals, nothing more, and should be treated as such." _

_It seems that despite Granger's great achievements, fate will not spare her. Crupulus is currently classified as an incurable disease. Saint Mungo's is working on a cure, but the outlook is not good. Magical creatures everywhere may have to consider what they will do in the future, with no Hermione Granger to help them._

_The infected Crup that attacked Granger, known as Karma, has since been put down, and not even Granger could argue that it was unjust._

_-Rita Skeeter_

The caption underneath the picture read: _Granger, with the house elves at Hogwart's kitchens. Granger has tried many a time to get house elves "fair wages," but has not been successful._

Draco had been worried that the article would anger Hermione. Remembering their previous talk about Rita Skeeter, Draco thought she'd be writing to the Ministry as soon as she finished reading to tell them that Rita was an unregistered animagus. However, when she set the paper aside, she had the complete opposite reaction: She burst out laughing.

Draco was confused, to say the least. "How did that article manage to make you laugh?"

"Poor, poor Rita," Hermione managed to get out through her giggles. "Trying to anger me while at the same time staying honest so that our deal would be upheld." Hermione snorted. "I mean, honestly? Howard Hulkens? She quotes _that_ moron to try and upset me? He barely graduated from Hogwarts. He's only employed by the Ministry because his _father_ hired him!"

Draco began laughing as well. He knew Hulkens, and she was right: he was a moron. "Well, I'm just pissed that I didn't get mentioned. But I guess she was scared of singling me out as a poor healer specifically, so she instead just labeled all of St. Mungo's as incompetent. 'The outlook is not good,' honestly. How in the hell would she know?"

This caused Hermione to laugh even louder. When she leaned over, clutching her stomach, Draco thought it was because of her excessive laughter. Upon getting a closer look at her, he saw that her facial expression was one of intense agony. She stopped laughing completely, now overtaken by groans of pain. Draco guessed she was experiencing painful stomach cramps, and that her laughter had probably brought them around. His laughter died away right along with hers, and he summoned a pain potion, which she quickly consumed.

Her face still showed the pain from the stomach cramps, but she was no longer clutching herself. She looked scared that it might happen again. "I wonder if that's what pregnancy contractions feel like," Hermione wondered out loud, while she wondered to herself if she would ever get to feel a pregnancy contraction.

Draco knew that the answer was no, knew that Crupulus cramps were far more painful than pregnancy contractions, but didn't have the heart to tell her. He had noticed that her expression had quickly gone from one of fear to one of utter sadness. If he had to guess why, he would guess that she had just realized she may never live to experience pregnancy. The idea made Draco feel like his stomach had been twisted into a knot. _No one deserves to die so young._ He only wished he had realized that before he'd sided with Voldemort.

He'd been going to point out that if she ever _did _experience pregnancy cramps, they'd be nothing to her after the Crupulus. Instead, he merely shrugged, saying, "I couldn't tell you," and excused himself so she could have some time alone.

Hermione's Crupulus symptoms had been occurring pretty regularly. Over the past three days, Draco had had to give her multiple pain potions, cure a few instances of coughing, and fill her up on water. Her appetite was also decreasing, though the effects of it didn't yet show in her weight. The pain didn't appear to scare Hermione much anymore; she expected it, was used to it, and knew that it would be over quickly whenever it happened. Still, Draco couldn't help but wonder how long it would take before the symptoms would begin to develop a resistance to the various potions and spells he could provide.

The episodes only reminded Draco that he had a very limited time in which to either save Hermione, or watch her slowly die.

---

Astley was waiting in Draco's office when he returned there. "Draco," Astley greeted him, standing. "How are you feeling?"

They exchanged pleasantries for a while, but it didn't take Astley long to get to the point of the conversation.

"How is your work on the Crupulus coming?"

Draco showed Astley a stack of notes that was sitting on his desk. He was quite proud of the amount of work he'd accomplished so far. He read three giant tomes about Crupulus in less than a week, and his notes themselves were almost equal to a book. Astley nodded in approval.

"When will you commence testing?" he asked. Draco shrugged.

"I have a few ideas for potions, but I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to test them," he told Astley honestly. As far as he knew, the only way to test if the cures worked would be to give them to Hermione, and that was a risk because he could never predict the side effects they would have. Astley seemed to arrive at a similar conclusion.

"It is problematic," he said, scratching his chin contemplatively. "But I suppose if the potions have no dangerous ingredients in them, there is no harm in having Miss Granger try them. The side effects can't be worse than the Crupulus." Draco nodded slowly. There seemed to be no other solution. "We'll have to get her permission, of course, but I can't see her denying it." Again, Draco nodded.

"I'm very proud of the work you've accomplished so far," Astley told Draco, knowing he thrived on praise. "At this rate, Miss Granger will be cured and headed home by the end of the month."

Draco smiled modestly. "Well, maybe not that soon."

"In any case, I want you to take the rest of the day off. You've been here for almost a week now."

"A day off? But what about my research, and the –"

"As you've said, Miss Granger has roughly six months. One night off won't hurt." Astley smiled gently. "You're working too hard. I'll assign Simon Baker to her for the afternoon. He's a good healer; he can handle it."

"Well, I'll need to talk to him first," Draco commanded. "Make sure he knows what to do."

"Feel free, Draco, feel free," Astley said, standing to leave. "I shall check in with you again in a couple of days."

"Alright," Draco said, standing to leave as well.

"And Draco?" Astley said, glancing back. "Try to have some fun. You need it."

Draco nodded, but inwardly sighed.

It looked like he _would_ be going out for drinks with Blaise after all.

---

Draco tracked Simon down in the employee's lounge, where he was chatting up one of the female healers.

"Baker, we need to talk." Simon followed Draco out of the room, looking slightly disappointed. He knew better than to say no to Draco, though. They were acquaintances, but Draco still wouldn't have allowed it.

Simon followed Draco to a secluded stretch of hallway and raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"You're going to be taking care of Hermione Granger," Draco stated. Simon nodded; Astley had already told him. "Well, there's a few things you should know," Draco continued. Again, Simon nodded, slightly impatient. He wondered if the female healer would wait for him to return.

"She's very headstrong. Don't try and force her to eat; she's likely to eat more if you don't say anything. She likes doing as many things for herself as she can, so don't try fluffing her pillows or some shit. She needs plenty of water, so make sure you get her it. The pain she experiences is intense, so summon the pain potion quickly and don't dawdle when you hear her alarm." He emphasized this point. "When you're taking care of her, she is the most important thing. Not chatting up other healers. Do you understand?"

Simon nodded again, more forcefully this time. He wasn't enjoying getting lectured; he knew how to be a healer. "You know, I vaguely remember you telling me you hated her less than a week ago in the cafeteria. But it sounds to me like you're rather concerned about her well-being."

Draco scowled. He and Simon usually got on all right, but Draco felt very irritated at the moment. "She's my responsibility. I don't want to be blamed if _you_ make mistakes."

Simon scoffed. "Fine, whatever. I get it. Anything else?" Simon barely refrained from adding a sarcastic _your majesty_ to the end of his question.

"If anything unusual happens, anything you aren't prepared for, contact me immediately." Draco shoved a small mirror into Simon's hand. "Speak my name into the mirror and you'll be able to talk to me. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Draco," Simon said exhaustedly.

"Do you have any questions?" Draco prodded, not entirely satisfied.

"No." Simon had a few negative things he wanted to say to Draco at the moment, but given his bad mood, Simon knew better than to risk it. Actually, he knew better than to risk talking back to Draco even if he was in a good mood.

"Fine," Draco said, for some reason feeling frustrated. "I'll be back by midnight."

Without responding, Simon turned and walked back towards the employee's lounge, hoping the girl was still there.

Not knowing why he was feeling so uneasy, Draco sighed, turned on his heel, and apparated into Blaise Zabini's apartment.

* * *

**A/N:** Next chapter: Drinks with Blaise. Will Draco meet a girl smart enough for him? Will Blaise meet one horny enough? Will Simon have to request Draco's help through the mirror?


	11. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Sorry this took so long, I started school recently and I have been doing lots of homework and not getting enough sleep. This is pretty short, but the next chapter will be up soon.

* * *

Blaise was very surprised when Draco apparated into his apartment.

"Draco!" Blaise exclaimed, jumping. "You should warn me when you're coming. I could've been doing something inappropriate."

"I can go on that date with you," Draco said unenthusiastically. "Astley gave me the day off."

"Great! I was just leaving," Blaise said. "I mean, I was going to try and have a ménage a trois, but I'm willing to make a sacrifice for you."

"Let's go then." Draco sounded impatient rather than excited.

"Draco, I know you're proud of your job and everything, but do you really think that lime green robes are proper attire for a date?"

Draco looked down at his robes, shrugged, and walked into Blaise's bedroom, emerging a few minutes later wearing a set of Blaise's plain black robes.

"Sure, Draco, you can borrow some clothes," Blaise said sarcastically.

Draco ignored him. "Since I'm going, I want the girl who does not have a daughter at Hogwarts. Unlike you, I'm not just looking for a one night stand."

"Fine with me, mate. That'd be Daphne." Blaise checked his watch and said, "Well, we're running a bit late. To The Three Broomsticks we go!"

They apparated into Hogsmeade, and entered The Three Broomsticks. Blaise indicated two very beautiful women that were sitting at a table in the corner of the bar. One had long, straight blonde hair, sharp features, and green eyes. Draco desperately hoped it wasn't Daphne; blonde hair always reminded him too much of his mother. The other had short, curly black locks and deep purple eyes--some kind of eye color charm, Draco supposed. Her skin was quite pale, and when she smiled over at him, he noticed that she was slightly bucktoothed.

_Great,_ Draco thought. _So I'm either reminded of my mother, or of Granger._

Blaise greeted the women, and in his greeting revealed that Daphne, Draco's date, was the buck-toothed girl. Both relief and worry flooded Draco, but eventually his relief won out, as he decided that dating a woman who reminded him of Hermione was slightly less weird than dating a woman who looked like his mother. At least he wasn't related to Hermione.

Draco sat down across from Daphne after shaking her hand and introducing himself. Blaise instantly started a conversation after they ordered their drinks, but Draco wasn't paying much attention. Instead he found his thoughts drifting to how Simon was handling Hermione.

He shook his head irritatedly. He had a beautiful woman sitting right in front of him; he didn't need to be distracted by thoughts of Hermione.

"So, Daphne," he asked, while Blaise chatted to Lisa, "What do you do for a living?" It was usually the first question he asked a girl. One could determine a lot of things based on a person's occupation.

"I'm a dressmaker at Madam Malkins," she said cheerily, sipping her butterbeer. "What do you do?" Again Draco noticed her buckteeth. They weren't unattractive, exactly, but they were… slightly distracting. Hermione flashed through his mind, but he ignored the thought.

He smiled at her, even though he wasn't too intrigued by her answer. Being a dressmaker didn't exactly seem like a job that required much intelligence or ambition, two traits he considered highly important. "I'm a healer at St. Mungo's," Draco said.

"Don't be modest," Blaise interrupted, hearing his answer. "Draco here is the _best_ healer at St. Mungo's," he assured Daphne.

"Oh really?" she said, smiling _once again_ with her buckteeth. _She really smiles too much,_ Draco thought, annoyed at the distraction.

He shrugged in response. "I'm pretty good," he admitted.

"What are you working on now?" Lisa asked him, sounding fairly interested. He wondered if Lisa was the smarter of the two girls.

"Well, ah…" He trailed off, not really wanting to talk about Hermione. Blaise picked up where he left off.

"He's the healer that's been assigned to work on Hermione Granger. She's got Crupulus; it was front page of the _Prophet._" Blaise was always ready to brag about his friend. Draco normally appreciated this habit, but at the moment he despised it, as he really did not want to talk about his work.

"Ooh, I read about that," Daphne said. "How awful. That poor girl."

"Have you come up with anything for the cure?" Lisa asked, and Draco decided that she indeed was more intelligent than Daphne. He wondered if Blaise had known that and purposefully not told him.

"A few ideas," Draco said vaguely. "Nothing certain. But I have high hopes." He took a swig of his drink. "So, Lisa, what is it that you do?"

"I work at a potions manufacturer," she said. "The one that sends potions to St. Mungo's, actually."

"Ah. Felicis, then?"

She nodded. "Proud creators of Felix Felicis."

"What do you do there?"

Draco was blatantly ignoring Daphne, hoping that Blaise would get the hint and covertly switch dates with him. "Secretary," she responded, smiling.

"Oh." Draco's excitement fell. He had been thinking she was a master potions brewer, or something of that sort. He didn't have anything against secretaries, necessarily. The job just wasn't that intriguing. Couldn't Blaise for once find him a girl who worked for Gringotts, Hogwarts, or the Ministry of Magic?

Ministry of Magic. Hermione worked there. Draco wondered why everything was reminding him of her.

Draco could tell that Daphne was getting pretty annoyed with him. Blaise took it upon himself to talk to both of the girls, which was just fine with Draco. He sat with one elbow on the table, nursing his butterbeer in a melancholy manner, thinking about all the work he could be getting done at St. Mungo's, and even wondering if talking to Hermione would have been more entertaining than what he was currently doing. They had certainly had a couple of laughs together.

Draco perked up upon hearing a mention of quidditch, but when he focused his attention to the discussion, he realized the girls were merely discussing which quidditch players they found most attractive. Not a discussion Draco wanted to get into. He ordered another butterbeer for himself, not even bothering to see if anyone else needed a refill. He'd had bad dates before, but he'd never been quite this bored. Then again, he usually didn't go to dates in a bad mood, or thinking about another woman.

Both Daphne and Lisa seemed to be trying to win Blaise over, and were ignoring Draco. Blaise wasn't even trying to help the situation anymore. He could read Draco's moods pretty accurately, and was able to tell that Draco was irritable.

_ Looks like he'll get that ménage a trios after all,_ Draco thought to himself.

When Draco heard Simon's voice emanating from his pocket, he was actually relieved – until he heard Hermione's scream.


	12. Chapter 11

**A/N:** Another short one, which I worry may be a disappointment ... BUT OH WELL! At least it's a fast update.

* * *

Hermione pushed her call button eagerly. She was excited to show Draco some information she'd found out about Crupulus and make a suggestion about the cure. She hoped that after his apology, he would be more receptive to hearing her ideas.

Draco didn't come immediately, which caused Hermione to wonder where he was. His office was right down the hall, so if he were there, he would've come quickly. She had always been surprised at how promptly he responded to her calls. Today, however, he seemed to be slower.

_What if I was in pain?_ Hermione thought to herself. _What if I was hurt?_

She grew more and more impatient as the minutes dragged by. Finally, after almost seven minutes to her count, her door opened, and she pounced instantly.

"Malfoy, what if I had been hurt? What took you so…"

But it wasn't Draco at her door. It was a man maybe five years older, with a short brown crew cut and green healer's robes.

"Wh…Where's Malfoy?" she stammered. She had definitely not been expecting this.

When he had entered the room, the man had looked slightly annoyed. His face seemed to perk up upon seeing her. "Taking a day off," he said cheerily. "I'm Simon. What can I do for you?"

"A day off?" she asked. "Why?"

"Astley told him he was working too hard," Simon said. "I can see why he had to force Draco out of the place, what with a beautiful girl like you under his care."

Hermione blushed furiously. "Well, uh, I just, I had a question for him."

"You can ask me," Simon assured her.

"No, it's about the cure. I really should wait for Malfoy to get back."

Simon shrugged, undeterred. "Well, there must be something I can help you with." He walked closer to her, still smiling. "Your back must be hurting from sitting in that bed all day. I could give you a massage…" He rubbed his hands together.

_This guy's not very subtle,_ Hermione thought to herself. She wasn't interested in blatant pickup attempts.

"That's quite alright." Hermione opened the book she held in her lap and started reading, hoping the guy would get the hint and leave. He didn't.

"We could eat some dinner together," he suggested, sitting down at the edge of her bed intrusively. Hermione found herself scooting away from him.

"I'm not hungry," she said, still looking at her book.

"I could –" Simon began, but Hermione cut him off before he could suggest another romantic activity.

"Actually, Simon, there _is_ something you could do for me." Hermione smiled sweetly. "My leg has been aching a little. Could you check it out to see what's wrong?" Hermione sensed that the guy was too overconfident to admit he didn't know what to do, and she was right.

"That's what I'm here for," Simon said, standing up. In a swift motion, he vanished the cast from her leg.

Just as swiftly, he puked all over her bed and the floor.

Hermione could hardly blame him. She had closed her eyes before he'd vanished her cast, knowing the sight would be horrid, but she could still smell the scent of rotting flesh that had poured into the room. The odor alone was enough to make her gag. She could hear Simon near her, speaking Draco's name frantically, and her curiosity got the better of her. She opened her eyes.

And screamed like a banshee.

Her leg was twisted, shrunken, and green. It reminded her vaguely of a mummy she had seen in a London museum, as though one touch would send her leg crumbling into dust. Her scream subsided as she dissolved into tears of fear and disgust. She shoved her face into her pillow so that she would no longer be tempted to look at the abomination that she had once called her leg.

She heard her door crash open, and heard Draco's angry voice say loudly, "What is going on?" Draco scanned the room and found Simon kneeling on the floor, looking like he was about to puke again. "Why did you remove her cast?"

"S-she wanted me t-to check on her l-l-leg," Simon stammered, using his sleeve to wipe vomit from the corner of his mouth.

"Why? Granger? What's wrong?" Hermione was still crying into her pillow, but managed to point in Simon's direction, and then at the door, indicating that she wanted him out of her room.

"Out, Simon." Draco said harshly. "Now!" he added when Simon didn't immediately obey. Covering his mouth, Simon practically ran out of the room. Draco closed the door behind him.

"What happened?" Draco asked when Simon was gone. Hermione didn't remove her face from her pillow.

"Can you cover up that foul thing, please," she mumbled through her pillow. Draco took "that foul thing" to be her leg, and after cleaning up Simon's puke from the bed and floor, he conjured a clean cast.

"You can look now," Draco said, and she finally showed her face, which was tear-streaked and miserable looking. Draco couldn't resist saying what he said next. "I TOLD you not to look at your damn leg."

Hermione sniffed. "I know," she replied, and Draco was completely shocked that she wasn't trying to argue with him. "I wasn't going to. I was just trying to get that guy to stop hitting on me, but I couldn't resist –"

"He was _hitting on you?_" Draco didn't know why it should bother him if Simon hit on Hermione; he certainly hit on every other attractive patient he had. But for some reason, it made Draco's anger grow more intense. "Incompetent fool," Draco said as he began to pace furiously. "More interested in hitting on patients than caring for them." Draco's thoughts ran through a couple of things he'd like to do to Simon, of which getting him fired was the most mild.

"You certainly are a better healer than _him, _I have to say. It took him nearly ten minutes to get here when I summoned him; it wasn't important, but think what _could_ have happened!" Hermione sounded very indignant, and at first, Draco was too focused on the compliment she'd given him to process what she'd said. When he realized that Simon had both put Hermione in danger _and_ disobeyed Draco's direct instructions to not dawdle when Hermione called, his anger escalated to the point of blind rage.

"Astley will be hearing about this," Draco fumed out loud. "How exactly did he hit on you?" For some reason, this bit of information infuriated Draco the most.

"He offered to rub my back, offered to eat dinner with me, said I was 'beautiful.'" Hermione was blushing furiously. Draco felt a spontaneous urge to thank her for not responding to Simon's advances, but he ignored it.

"Horny little bastard," Draco muttered. "He was just hitting on Fiona downstairs."

Hermione didn't know what to say, so she just sat there.

"So he hit on you, and then…?" Draco asked, curious to know the rest of the story.

"I told him my leg felt funny, and asked if he could check on it. I knew he probably wouldn't know what to do, and probably didn't expect it to look like … well, like it does. I hoped it would gross him out enough to get him to leave. Obviously, my plan backfired a bit, but worked in the end. He's gone now."

Draco's rage grew even further. Simon was aware that he knew nothing about Hermione's Crupulus, yet he had tried to treat it instead of calling Draco instantly. Draco stood stock still, fists clenched, trying to get the better of his rage. He knew that the only proper way to vent his anger at the moment was to yell and throw things, but he didn't want to scare Hermione, who already looked pretty nervous. He stood there for a couple of minutes, breathing deeply. Then he spoke. "Don't worry. I won't let him in here again." Hermione sighed in relief. "So, what did you call him for originally?" Draco had finally remembered why Simon was in the room in the first place: Hermione must have pressed the call button, and Draco doubted very much that she had pressed it to get hit on.

"I… umm.." Hermione felt a lot less confident in sharing her thoughts about the cure now that Draco was so angry. "It was nothing. I was just… hungry! Yeah. I was just hungry." Draco narrowed his eyes at her, wondering why she looked so pleased with herself. "So.. food?" she added, squirming under Draco's scrutinizing gaze.

"Right," Draco said, turning to go to the cafeteria. He could only hope he'd run into Simon along the way. "Oh, before I go," he said, walking to her call button. He performed a silent spell on it. "Now when you press it, I'll be the one hearing it again."

Hermione was strangely relieved.


	13. Chapter 12

It had been nearly a week since 'the Simon incident.' Draco was still pissed about it, despite the fact that everyone else, even Hermione, seemed to be over it. Draco had raged at Astley for not firing "the stupid prat," but Astley was not nearly as mad at Simon as Draco was. Astley took sympathy on the fact that Simon knew nothing about Crupulus and despite Draco's insistence that this meant Simon should not have tried to treat the disease, Astley seemed to understand Simon's explanation of not wanting to seem uninformed.

Simon did not get away unpunished, but the month of treating Hattie Meister (a permanent half-ogre patient whom no one wanted to treat) seemed tame compared to the punishments Draco thought should be inflicted.

Of course, Astley wasn't quite as concerned with Simon's flirting as Draco was, which might account for the different thoughts on punishment.

Draco took it upon himself to increase Simon's misery by not speaking to him. Unfortunately, Simon seemed to regard this as a positive. Draco also insisted that Simon never be allowed to see Hermione again, which Simon was not too bothered by, since she hadn't responded to his advances anyway. The fact that Simon was not bothered angered Draco further, and Hermione spent many conversations insisting to him that it was no big deal, and he should just move on.

"His pride wouldn't allow him to call you. He was trying to impress me, remember?" Hermione had once said, trying to persuade Draco to forgive Simon.

This just seemed to make him more angry, so Hermione gave up and tried to make him forget his anger by talking about other things.

Draco had been spending a lot of time in Hermione's room of late, mostly to vent his anger. Blaise had come to visit to tell tales of the wonderful threesome he'd had with Daphne and Lisa, and Draco had tried to get all his complaining done then. However, Blaise was used to dealing with Draco's anger and merely listened without much of a response. Hermione, on the other hand, shared her own opinions of the situation, which Draco found more engaging. He wasn't used to people telling him what they thought, because usually no one wanted to argue with him. Hermione didn't seem to mind doing just that.

"_You_ should be mad at him. He could've done serious harm to you," Draco had pointed out at one point.

"Yes, you're right. _I_ should be mad at him. _You_ shouldn't be. At least, not anymore. So why is it that I am not mad and you are?"

Draco hadn't responded.

Draco had run into Simon while he was retrieving his and Hermione's lunch. He had given Simon a death glare and not spoken, despite Simon's feeble, very quiet greeting. He had hoped this would wound Simon, but Draco had seen him go on to talk and laugh with other coworkers. So once again, Draco entered Hermione's room quite irritated. He plopped her lunch tray down on her lap and said, "You better eat it all, too, or I'll force it down your throat."

Hermione would normally have responded viciously to such a statement, but she now knew that Draco was acting hostile out of his anger for another person, not for her. So she just sighed and said, "What now? Did Simon not bow down and beg for forgiveness?"

Draco didn't want to tell her she was right, and that it was in fact bothering him that Simon hadn't asked for forgiveness. But he had no one else to complain to. "He seems happy that I'm not speaking to him."

"I expect _anyone_ would be happy to not have you speaking to them." But she was smiling as she said it, so he let it go. Upon Draco's lack of response, Hermione added, "I'm sure he'll come around eventually." She didn't add that she was really the one who deserved an apology from Simon, not Draco.

Draco grunted his acknowledgement, aggressively shoveling a forkful of peas into his mouth.

Hermione tried to force herself to eat, but she really wasn't hungry, and she had found that eating too much made her feel sick. She tried to create the illusion that she had eaten a lot by rearranging the food on her plate. Unfortunately, she'd tried that on Draco one too many times.

"Eat, Granger." He had barely had to glance at her plate to notice she hadn't eaten her fill.

"But it makes me feel sick," she whined.

"You're losing too much weight. Don't make me tube-feed you."

It was true. She'd been at St. Mungo's about two weeks total, and she was already beginning to get thinner. She knew it should bother her, but her other symptoms worried her more, so she tended not to think about it.

She sighed, and ate half of her sandwich, hoping that would appease Draco. Then she thought of something that would distract him.

"So, I got something interesting in the mail today." She reached for a magazine on her bedside table. She held it up so Draco could read the headline.

**GRANGER WRONGLY DIAGNOSED WITH CRUPULUS**

Hermione's picture dominated half of the cover, while Draco's picture took up the other half.

"What- what is _that?_" Draco asked, baffled.

"_The Quibbler_," Hermione said, smiling. "As you can see, you and I share the front page."

"Give me that," Draco said, trying to snatch it from her. She held it back.

"I'll read it out loud," she said, opening to a dog-eared page in the middle of the magazine.

_Hermione Granger, 21, was wrongly diagnosed with Crupulus by an "excellent" healer, Draco Malfoy. A far more experienced healer, Dudley Dirchet, has confirmed The Quibbler's belief that the condition Granger is experiencing is, in fact, Crumpulus, a beneficial effect of a close encounter with a Crumple-Horned Snorkack. The misdiagnosis was first brought to our attention by the young Luna Lovegood._

_ "I'm close friends with Hermione," Lovegood said, "And I recognized the misdiagnosis right away." When St. Mungo's hospital, Draco Malfoy's employer, refused to retract their misdiagnosis at Lovegood's request, she took matters into her own hands._

_ "My daddy publishes The Quibbler," Lovegood stated. "So I decided to inform the public of the falsities occurring at St. Mungo's."_

_ Xenophilius Lovegood, publisher of The Quibbler and father of Luna Lovegood, believes there is a conspiracy at play. "Many people do not want the world to know of the existence of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks," Lovegood said. "I believe that St. Mungo's is trying to hide the fact that Miss Granger encountered one by lying about her disease and ridding her of the effects of Crumpulus." _

_ Whether this is true or not remains to be seen. _

_Neither Malfoy nor Granger could be reached for comment, but Herbert Astley, the director of St. Mungo's, has spoken on Malfoy's behalf._

_ "Draco Malfoy is the best healer I employ, and we both know for a fact that Miss Granger is diagnosed with Crupulus. This disease is caused by a bite from a Crup. Miss Granger was bitten by a Crup in her line of work. She has all the symptoms. The evidence is irrefutable."_

_ Yet, Luna Lovegood says that Hermione never mentioned being bitten by a Crup. "I got a letter from her. She never mentioned anything about a Crup."_

_ And The Quibbler's investigations reveal that the Crup that supposedly bit Granger has already been mysteriously put down. This leads us here to wonder if there ever was a Crup at all._

_ Granger is currently being kept isolated in a room at St. Mungo's with only Malfoy to care for her._

_ More on this story as it develops. _

It took Draco a while to react after the story was finished. Hermione expected more anger, but at least anger that was not directed at Simon.

Instead, Draco laughed. He laughed so intensely that tears ran down his cheeks. After a few shocked seconds, Hermione laughed too.

"The whole story will collapse when I tell them I actually _was_ bitten by a crup," Hermione said through her laughter.

"Since when does _The Quibbler_ care about their stories not holding up?" Draco responded, causing Hermione to snort and nod her agreement. "I am _so_ worried about what this will do to my reputation."They continued laughing, and then Draco stood up. "I've got to show this to Astley." Draco took the magazine with a nod of permission from Hermione and, still laughing, left the room.

Hermione was glad that the article had had the desired effects of distracting Draco both from Simon and from her lack of eating. But when he left the room, she felt an unexplainable sadness enter her body.

She had no idea what was going on between Draco and herself. They were actually getting along. She actually enjoyed when he came to see her. She even looked forward to it. For the past two weeks, she had been trying to explain it away. _He's the only person I get to see,_ she'd think to herself, or, _There's nothing better to do than talk to him._ But it wasn't really like that. Were they becoming friends? Or was this just a temporary truce until she was either better or dead?

Hermione had not forgotten all the things Draco had done to her, yet she had a feeling that he felt bad for them. He never actually said it, but the way he treated her seemed to indicate that he was no longer the same person he had been in school. If he apologized, she knew she would forgive him. What was to stop them, then, from being friends?

Besides her own friends, that was. And his friends.

If she knew their "friendship" was only temporary, then why did she ache for him to come back to her room? Why did she dread the day she left the hospital, when she should be looking forward to it?

Lost in her thoughts, she finished the other half of her sandwich.


	14. Chapter 13

**A/N: **I know I haven't updated in a really, really long time. So, here is my list of excuses:

1) I wanted this chapter to be perfect, so it was edited _a lot._ A LOT. I'm sick of reading it now, and I'm sure my beta is, too.

2) Had my 21st birthday, and got a Kindle. I've been reading it pretty much non-stop during my freetime.

3) My grandpa died - cancer. All things considered, I wasn't really in the mood to write/edit a story about a girl dying from a deadly disease.

4) School, school, school.

Anyway, I hope the chapter was at least somewhat worth the wait. Enjoy.

* * *

As his time tending to Hermione progressed, Draco became less and less committed to wearing his healer's robes. They were hideous, after all, and she was his only patient. He hardly ever saw Astley these days and wearing the robe was no longer important to him. He had begun to wear casual robes, and even a few muggle items he had picked up over the years. He did think he looked rather attractive in blue jeans.

He was carrying a food tray to Hermione. He knew she wouldn't finish most of it, but he had to try. She had been shunning food for around three weeks now, and the weight loss was starting to show.

He was pleased to see that she smiled when he entered the room. They had definitely been growing more comfortable around each other. She even seemed to enjoy it when he came to check on her – and he didn't dread it himself. In fact, he found himself looking forward to going to her room, found himself making excuses to eat his meals with her. He had himself _almost_ convinced that it was because she was the only female he knew who could keep up with him in conversation; he could _almost_ ignore his physical attraction to her.

As he pushed the door closed with his hips, her eyes seemed to scan him up and down. He smirked, knowing that she was enjoying the sight of him in his blue jeans and his (quite-flattering, he thought) black shirt. Her gaze seemed to stop, however, before reaching the shirt—at a point about halfway up his body.

Draco was surprised; she seemed to be staring right at his crotch. His smirk grew, and he repositioned himself for better viewing. As he began to wonder what she could be imagining, he noticed that her facial expression was not one of a lust-filled woman. Her eyes were narrowed, the corners of her mouth turned down, eyebrows lowered. Realization tore through him. She had never been staring at his crotch, but at a certain skull-shaped mark permanently inked into his forearm.

_Fuck,_ he thought to himself. _Shouldn't have worn a short-sleeve._

Hermione couldn't seem to tear her eyes away from the mark. Draco didn't know exactly what to do, so he decided to pretend like he didn't notice and bring her the tray. Her eyes tracked his arm as he moved closer to her. "I've got your lunch," he said, annoyed that her eyes were still focused on his arm. He shoved the tray in front of her face, interrupting her line of sight.

Hermione jumped back a bit as the tray was shoved at her. She looked up at Draco, and when she did, she was jarred temporarily from her angry thoughts. His eyes – they looked so politely confused, not evil – and she found herself thinking about how kind he'd been to her the past few weeks. She remembered laughing with him, and crying in front of him, and how he hadn't treated her like she was a piece of dirt. But there was the Dark Mark. She couldn't ignore it. Him being nice to her now didn't make everything he'd done in the past okay. The Dark Mark was a reminder of all the bad things that had happened in her life – and Draco having it made her want to hate him.

She tried to rationalize with herself. She tried to tell herself that Draco was sorry for the things he'd done. But one thought ate at her – one question that could not be logically answered. _Why has he never apologized? _It was as though he didn't think he needed to – as though he thought he hadn't done anything wrong.

They had been getting along really, really great. But that didn't necessarily _mean_ anything. It was probably just Draco doing his job. There was no way she could just forget the things he'd done in the past. _Harry and Ron would never approve._ Especially if Draco didn't feel that he needed to apologize.

Draco, not being privy to Hermione's inner thoughts, was growing more and more confused as he watched her expression go from angry, to thoughtful, to sad, and back to angry, all the while gazing at his face. He simply stood there, awkwardly, waiting for her to say something.

"I'm not hungry," she said, setting the tray on her bedside table a little roughly, so that a bit of applesauce sloshed over the side of its container. Her eyes flew back to his arm, her trademark glare on her face, and Draco was desperately wondering what she was thinking. To try and get some sort of reaction out of her, he nonchalantly clasped his hands behind his back, hiding his arm from view. She didn't even seem to notice, and continued to stare at the place his arm had once occupied, forehead furrowed, seemingly lost in thought.

He thought maybe talking would break her stupor. "You need to eat, Granger. You're losing weight. I can see it in your face. I know you don't _feel_ hungry, but –"

"Why did you do it?" she interrupted him, as if she wasn't even aware he'd been talking. "Do what?" he asked, hoping this conversation wasn't going where he thought it was.

She glared up at him then, as if the answer to his question should be completely obvious. "Become a death eater," she said, spitting the words out so that they would be in her mouth for as little time as was possible. She was obviously disgusted with the whole idea of death eaters, and the fact that Draco had been one, that she could scarcely stand it. She couldn't fathom how he could be arrogant enough to parade around her, waving his dark mark in the air. How could he do that, when it symbolized Voldemort's attempted extermination of the muggle-borns – and there she was, a muggle-born? Did he really think she would be okay with it?

Draco stared at her, slowly raising one eyebrow. He wondered if she was honestly asking him this. He had always thought the answer to her question had been fairly obvious. She crossed her arms tightly, waiting for a response.

"They were going to kill my parents," Draco said slowly, dangerously calm, his jaw tightening as he tried to hold in his growing frustration. "I didn't have much choice."

Hermione let out a derisive laugh. "So the first time you _ever_ considered being a death eater was when Voldemort threatened your parents?"

Draco flinched at the mention of Voldemort's name, and his shoulders stiffened at her accusations. His face flushed with anger. "I didn't take it seriously until then, no."

Hermione was stunned at the idiocy of his response. It took her a few seconds of opening and closing her mouth in indignation before she could come up with something to say. "You certainly played the part," she snapped, unable to control her anger. _So we've been getting along for the past three weeks. That doesn't erase past wrongs__._ "Hating me just because I'm muggle-born. Torturing me, insulting me, humiliating me. And you never even cared, did you? It never even bothered you that you made my life at school miserable."

Draco stood there, clenching his fists, completely unable to say anything, because really, what could he say? That she had deserved it?

"You _still_ don't care." continued Hermione, gripping her sheets tightly. "Here I am, on my deathbed, and you still don't have it in you to apologize. You flash that mark at me like some sort of trophy –"

"What am I supposed to do, cut off my arm?" Draco snarled through gritted teeth. "I don't _want_ this mark. It's just like Potter's stupid scar; I can't get rid of it." Draco was almost exploding with anger, and yet he couldn't find any words with which to defend himself. This made him even more angry, because he didn't like knowing that he had done something wrong. And he was angry that he had exposed the mark so carelessly, that he had caused a fight when they had been getting along so well.

"It is NOTHING like Harry's scar!" Hermione cried, obviously enraged at the comparison. "You got that mark by choice! Harry never wanted his." She paused, her breaths rapid and furious. "You deserve that mark, Malfoy. You deserve to always be reminded of how evil you are."

"Evil?" Draco said, shocked almost to the point of laughter. "I hardly think calling you a beaver once or twice qualifies as being evil."

"No, you're right. That just makes you an asshole. What makes you evil is the fact that you joined the death eaters, tried to kill Dumbledore, and almost got Ron and Katie Bell killed. And you sat by and watched while Bellatrix tortured me." The last memory seemed to be the hardest on Hermione, and he flinched when he noticed that tears had sprung to her eyes. "Just sat there, while I screamed and cried, begging for her to stop. While I felt like I'd die from the pain." Her voice began to break. "You probably even enjoyed it.".

Hermione had certainly done a good job of hitting all of Draco's buttons. She had, in less than a minute, reminded him of all the things he was most ashamed of. His horrible treatment of her in school, almost killing Ron and Katie, his part in Dumbledore's death, and though he tried not to think about it, sitting by and watching while Hermione was tortured.

It had almost made him sick at the time. Even when he had hated her, he could hardly bear to watch Bellatrix torment her.

And now the memory had overcome Hermione, and she was crying, her head in her hands.

"Granger, I…" Draco began, not knowing what he was going to say. He hated knowing that he was the cause of her tears. He wondered how many times in the past she had cried because of him.

"What was I supposed to do?" It was the only way he had made himself feel better about it over the years: reassuring himself that there was nothing he could've done to help her without getting himself killed in the process. The memory still sickened him. The fact that his own aunt, the same woman who had taught him legillimency, had tortured a teenager, and would have done the same to Draco had he interfered, made him feel like throwing up.

She didn't respond, just went right on crying.

"Look, Granger, I'm sorry. For everything. Alright? Is that what you wanted? I fucking hate myself for all the things I did. I'm sorry I made your life so miserable." Draco sat down in the desk chair, and put his head in his hands. "I know I fucked up. It's too late to change what I did. But I'm trying to cure you to make up for it. So that I can forget my guilt and move on with my life. I figured that would be apology enough."

She still didn't respond.

He looked up at her. She was still crying into her hands.

To his disgust, Draco felt his own eyes cloud over with tears. He blinked rapidly, refusing to let them spill. He stood up and started to leave the room, not expecting any reply from Hermione. But right before he reached the door, he heard her speak muffled words.

"I'm sorry I slapped you in third year." Her face was still in her hands, and Draco wondered to himself if she had actually spoken.

"I deserved it," he said slowly, walking back into the middle of the room. She looked up at him, her face soaked in tears. "I'm sorry I called you a mudblood." He wanted to explain to her how his father had ground the ideals into his head when he was young and impressionable.

"I always figured that was your father's influence," she said, as though reading his thoughts, while wiping tears from her face. Draco nodded slowly, confirming her thought. Her voice still gravelly from crying, she said, "I'm sorry I said you bought your way onto the quidditch team."

Draco chuckled quietly. "Why? I _did_ buy my way in."

Hermione laughed softly in return, though it was a little forced. "Yeah, but Harry told me that you're actually pretty good."

Draco could hardly keep his jaw from hitting the floor. "Potter said I was good?" She nodded, and Draco suddenly felt much better about his quidditch skills. He really didn't like that he cared. "I'm sorry I made your teeth grow huge."

"It turned out to be a good thing," she said, flashing her teeth at him. "I had Madam Pomfrey shrink them down to size for me." Draco was surprised that he had never noticed; her teeth were much smaller than they had been in their early years at school, where he had taunted her for them. _Not like she ever had a reason to smile at me,_ he thought to himself. "I'm sorry I called you a ferret." she continued.

He grinned at the old insult. "I'm sorry I insulted your hair."

"I'm sorry I insulted _your_ hair."

"How could you insult _my_ hair?" he asked, utterly surprised.

"Oh, please. You always wore it slicked back with gel in school. It looked ridiculous. It looks much better now." As soon as the words escaped her mouth, Hermione's face turned bright red, and she covered her mouth with her hand, even though it was too late to contain the words. He laughed, but it wasn't the same laugh she had always heard back at Hogwarts. It was a genuine, happy laugh, not a malicious one.

"Your hair looks much better now, as well," he said, flashing a grin. She immediately began tucking it behind her ears, looking awkward. It was so close to flirting that even he felt uncomfortable. He, who had never before felt awkward or unconfident around women. He worried that he may have taken the conversation too far, but she seemed to recover, and stuck out a hand to him.

"I think we can both agree that we're sorry," she said, waiting with her arm in the air.

"Agreed," he said, shaking her hand. It was voluntary physical contact. Something he had never thought he and Hermione would share. Her hand was slightly sweaty, as if she was nervous, and looking in her eyes he could tell that she was. Maybe she thought he wouldn't willingly touch her, or that he would be disgusted when he did. In an attempt to reassure her, he gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and her face registered shock for a brief moment before she pulled her hand away. Both of them expected the other to wipe their hand off on something, though neither did.

"And we forgive each other," she added after a pause.

"Of course," he agreed. He had the feeling she was only apologizing for the stupid little things she had done to him in order to make him feel better about his own apology.

At these words, she smiled, a full, genuine smile, fully exposing her shrunken teeth. She had never smiled like this at him before. He never would have thought that apologizing to her would elicit such a response. There was a short silence. Draco scratched the back of his neck.

"Well, I'm going to take a nap now. So I'll see you, Mal- D.. Draco." She said his name slowly, stumbling over it, as if it were a foreign language. He was shocked into speechlessness for a few seconds, and it was Hermione's turn to worry that she'd gone too far.

"Yeah." Draco turned towards the door to hide the pink hue that was rapidly rising in his cheeks. He glanced back to close the conversation. "See you, Hermione." Her name flowed flawlessly from his lips, and her smile increased as she settled down beneath her blankets. Draco left the room feeling as though a huge weight had been lifted off his shoulders.


	15. Chapter 14

The room was in complete and total silence. Neither Draco nor Hermione spoke as they stared at each other, mouths agape.

Draco was the first to recover.

"I've decided. I don't like it."

"What?" Hermione said. "Yes you do. You're infatuated with it."

"No. I don't like it. It just leaves you with more questions." Draco crossed his arms. "I want answers. Not more questions."

"Draco, just admit it. You love Lost. A muggle television show." Draco's mouth dropped into a scowl, and Hermione lightly punched his arm. "Admit it! There's no shame in enjoying a good story, even if muggles wrote it. And besides, I've heard that J.J. Abrams is actually a wizard."

"Fine. I _do_ like it," Draco pouted, "But I'm still pissed. What is in that hatch? How many episodes are they going to make me spend wondering? Where are the polar bears coming from? And finally, WHAT IS THAT BLACK SMOKE MONSTER THING?"

Draco stood up off of Hermione's bed and walked towards the TV. "Where's the next Dee-vee-bee?" he asked, and Hermione snorted in laughter.

"It's DVD. And we're not watching another one. We've already wasted three hours today watching it."

"But Hermione, the light in the hatch just came on. We're close to answers, I know it!" Hermione thought that Draco's whining was the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

"That's what we think after every episode, but it's never true. Besides, we need to endure the suspense. Did you know that when muggles watch television series, they usually have to wait a week for the next episode?"

"A week?" Draco's eyes widened in wonder. "I guess muggles are a lot stronger than I ever gave them credit for."

Hermione laughed and turned the television off with her remote. After much begging and pleading, she had convinced Draco to allow her a TV in her room, to deal with her increasing boredom. He had thought it was stupid, a waste of time, but he had eventually agreed. A muggle friend had borrowed her the first five seasons of Lost, and she had started watching them. At one point in the series, around episode three, Draco had walked in while she was watching, and become entranced. After that, they had started watching the series together – with much begging and pleading from Draco, of course, that she re-watch the first two episodes with him.

"I think Locke is my favorite character," Draco mused. "He's the most interesting."

"Locke?" Hermione said. "I like Sawyer."

"Really? Sawyer?" Draco seemed disappointed. "He's an asshole. Why do you like the asshole?"

"I like you, don't I?" Hermione said, and before Draco could think up a witty response, Hermione gagged loudly, and then vomited all over the floor.

Before Draco could complain about how Hermione had just thrown up the only food he'd gotten her to eat in the past two days, Hermione was throwing up again, and Draco thought that maybe he should take some action to prevent this from happening.

He conjured up a bucket with a vanishing spell at the bottom, so she could puke in it, but it would never get full. Then he summoned the anti-puking potion, and contemplated various ways to administer it to her while she was throwing up. He seized his opportunity during a short pause between pukes, and she gulped the potion down hastily, knowing she would not have much time to get through it.

Then she vomited again.

Draco knew the potion would take some time to work, as Hermione was progressing on in her Crupulus, and her symptoms were becoming slightly resistant to attempts to stop them. He knew it would take effect soon, but she would still be throwing up for a while until it happened. As he watched her, he noticed her hair was dangerously close to getting vomit on it, and without much thought besideshow much he would hate vomiting on his own gorgeous hair, he found himself gently swiping her hair back into a ponytail and holding it in place lightly with his hand. He couldn't help but notice how it felt just as soft as it looked.

If Hermione hadn't already been jerking forward from the force of her vomiting, she probably would have pulled her hair away from Draco in shock. As it was, she appreciated the gesture, though she hoped that Draco didn't notice the red that was probably creeping along the back of her neck from embarrassment.

Hermione didn't have much left to throw up, so her fits eventually turned into dry heaving, and then stopped. The potion had finally taken effect, but Hermione kept her head in the bucket for a little while afterwards, just in case. Finally she raised her head, and Draco let her hair drop from his fingers.

"Thanks," she managed to croak out. Her face was wet with tears, and it was bright red. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.

Finally, Draco got to say what he had been thinking the whole time. "I didn't know admitting that you like me would make you _that_ sick."

Hermione tried to laugh, but her throat was raw and in pain, so she stopped almost immediately. Draco conjured up a pitcher of water and handed it to her. She accepted gratefully, and drank almost half of it right away.

"I hate throwing up," she said, her voice still scratchy.

Draco nodded. He didn't want to say anything about his concerns that the potion had taken so long to take effect, but apparently he didn't have to.

"The disease is getting resistant," she stated matter-of-factly.

Again, Draco nodded.

This time, when Hermione's voice broke, Draco didn't think it was from the vomiting. "See, we need to stop wasting time with Lost. We need to work on the cure."

_Please don't cry,_ Draco thought, getting worried. _I won't know what to do if you cry._ Now that he had apologized, and they were becoming friends, he knew it wouldn't be okay to just walk away if she started crying. After all, he was the only person she had to comfort her. But he had always been bad with other people's tears, and he hardly even knew Hermione. "Yeah," Draco managed. "We'll do that."

Draco could tell she was trying not to cry in front of him, but she was losing the battle. Though her face was already wet from her vomiting spree, he could see new tears forming in her eyes. He had absolutely no idea how to react. He tried to reassure her.

"Don't worry, we'll find the cure." He said _we'll_ just to appease her: he still hadn't really let her help with anything cure-related.

Instead of helping, this sentence seemed to break her, and she began sobbing into her hands. Draco stood there stiffly, looking around the room as if someone else might help him out of this situation. Where was Potter when you needed him? Even Weasley could probably handle her crying better than he could.

He understood her crying, of course. She did have a deadly disease with no cure, and her only hopes relied on him. She was cut off from her friends and family – it had been, what, a month since she'd seen them? Maybe a little more? Draco had lost track of the time. Though they did annoyingly send letters every day, Draco knew it wasn't the same as face-to-face contact. He knew she missed them desperately. Draco couldn't help but feel a little jolt of jealously at that thought.

Whenever Pansy had cried in the past, and sometimes his mother, though she rarely cried, he had usually just touched them in some way to show that he was there. An arm around their shoulders, or a hug, or, in Pansy's case, having her sit in his lap. He doubted Hermione would be open to the last option, but he decided he better try and do something, no matter how awkward it made him feel.

Very tentatively, he sat down beside her on the bed. Relief flooded through him when she didn't try and scoot away or push him off. Then, slowly, holding his breath without realizing it, he put his arm around her shoulders.

He was expecting the worst – her to shove him away, or cry out, or even hit him – he was definitely not expecting her to lean into him, to clutch his clothes tightly and cry loudly into his chest. Taking this as a good sign, he began to lightly rub her back as he used to with Pansy and Narcissa. Hermione's crying seemed to intensify, and Draco didn't know if this was a good thing or a bad one.

As she cried, Draco didn't have much to do besides think. He thought about how the disease was getting a firmer hold on her, and about how her symptoms were becoming more active, and harder to control. He thought about the poor progress he was making on the cure, because he had been so distracted by her and spending time with her. He thought about sitting next to her now, holding her, and how much he enjoyed it, despite himself. Then he thought about how he would feel if she died, and the thought caused him to clutch her closer to his chest.

No, he couldn't let her die. _Wouldn't_ let her die. He would find the cure, even if he had to stop watching Lost to do so.

"I'll cure you," he whispered into her hair, and she was crying so loud he wasn't even sure if she heard him.

"I promise."

* * *

"_Dear Ginny, it is in greatest confidence that I tell you what I am about to, and I ask you to please never tell Harry or Ron what I am about to say,_" Harry read aloud, while Ginny jumped and tried to grab the letter from him. Unfortunately, he was too tall.

Harry cleared his throat and continued, while Ron watched him anxiously. "_I hugged Draco Malfoy today. I HUGGED him. Draco MALFOY. Son of a Death Eater. My former enemy. Hugged him_."

"_Former_ enemy?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"Harry, stop! Give me that!" Ginny cried, trying again to grab the letter while Harry pushed her back.

"Ginny, you're my wife. You aren't supposed to keep secrets from me."

"And Hermione's _our_ best friend. She should be telling _us_ this." Ron added.

"She knew how you'd react, that's why she didn't! Now give it back!" Ginny made another swipe at the letter. If only Ron hadn't taken her wand from her, she'd bat-bogey both of them.

Harry ignored Ginny. "_And what's worse is that I didn't totally hate it. Actually, I didn't hate it at all. I rather enjoyed it._"

"ENJOYED it?" Ron yelled, standing in fury.

Harry looked sick, and swallowed hard before continuing. "_The thing is, Draco has been – well, he's been very sweet lately, and I can't help but feel that he is a completely different person from the one I knew in school_." Harry looked at Ginny. "Did she just call him _Draco_?"

Ginny had given up trying to snatch the letter back and was now sitting on the couch with her arms crossed, looking furious. She didn't reply, just glared at Harry. Harry gave Ron a furious glance, and went on. "_I didn't tell anyone this, but he apologized to me, for how he treated me in school and how he – well, all the bad things he did. He really regrets them, I can tell. And since then, we have been getting along really great_."

At this point, Ron's face was turning a slight green while his ears were a flaming red, and Harry was trying very hard not to gag. "_I feel as though I may be developing feelings_-" Harry's voice faltered, "_for him, and it's confusing me greatly. I don't know who else to tell. I know Harry and Ron would over react._"

"Over react?" Ron said, pulling at his own hair. "She's – she's-"

"_Fraternizing with the enemy?_" Ginny mocked, rolling her eyes.

"That!" Ron agreed, not catching the sarcasm.

"_I don't know what to do. He's been so nice, and we've actually been having a lot of fun, considering the circumstances, but I know the feelings can't be mutual. This is Draco Malfoy we're talking about, after all. I'm sure he would never want to date a muggle-born, no matter how bad he feels for treating me. He's probably just being nice to me because he thinks I'm going to die, and I know that, but I can't help it, Gin. I think I may be – I think I might – I think I like him._"

"He's trying to trick her!" Ron raved, pacing wildly. "He's – he's manipulating her somehow, he's messing with her-"

"Oh, don't be silly, Ronald," Ginny said condescendingly. "I think Hermione is a good enough judge of character to tell if someone is –"

"She fell for Gilderoy Lockhart's crap," Harry argued, "Just because he looked good. Malfoy looks good, too, so …" Harry paused at the looks he was being given. "I mean, that's just what I've heard. What I'm SAYING is, he could be fooling her just like Lockhart did."

"Of course you guys would think that. You hate him. If you don't recall, Hermione hated him, too. But he obviously did _something_ to make her believe he'd changed. Don't you think it'd have to be pretty good to change _Hermione's_ opinion of him? He was horrible to her, always insulting her hair and her teeth, calling her a know-it-all, you remember how many times she cried over him. She's not an idiot."

"No, she isn't. But neither is Malfoy, and I KNOW he's doing SOMETHING wrong." Ron declared.

"Whatever. Believe what you want; it's not going to stop Hermione from liking him."

"Read more, Harry," Ron said, ignoring Ginny.

"_I'm so confused. I know I shouldn't be feeling this way, but we've laughed together so many times, and had such good conversations – he's really smart, you know, and he actually understands the things that I talk about, and we've been watching Lost together, and it's just so cute to watch him get excited over a muggle thing… Well, anyway. I know I'm being stupid, but I just thought I'd tell you, get your opinion. And again, please, PLEASE don't mention any of this to Harry or Ron. Love from, Hermione._"

Harry folded the letter up and put it back in its envelope. Ginny proceeded to snatch it from him as if doing so would make him forget its contents.

"I'm going to Mungo's," Harry said, and before Ron or Ginny could reply, he'd disapparated.


	16. AN

******IGNORE*******

I'm really sorry, but I think I'm going to have to give up on this story. I've gotten really busy lately, and I've just run out of ideas. I really have no idea how to continue with it, so .. I apologize, and I'm sorry I've kind of led you on, but this is the end.


	17. Chapter 15

**A/N: April fools. Here's the next chapter.**

**OKAY, OKAY. I know I should have posted this sooner, and I carried the joke on too long, and I'm sorry. I meant to post this April 2nd or 3rd but I didn't get around to revising it, and ... yeah. I'm sorry. I hope I didn't lose any readers over this. IT WAS MY BOYFRIEND'S IDEA, BLAME HIM!**

**This chapter is pretty long, so I hope that kind of makes up for it, and I'm writing the next chapter right now, so... don't hate me. I AM going to finish this story, so don't worry.**

Draco jumped up as someone pounded furiously on his office door. Expecting Blaise, he opened the door with a grin. That grin was immediately punched off of his face.

Falling to the floor with a surprised yell, Draco looked up to see that his attacker was Harry Potter.

"What the _fuck_, Potter?" Draco gasped, clutching his face where the fist had hit. Harry entered the office and closed the door behind him.

"I want to know what you think you're doing with Hermione," Harry said calmly, massaging his knuckles.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Draco said, still holding his face. "I should call security right now." Draco grumbled this, knowing that it would be pretty hard to call security without Harry stopping him. Still, he felt he had to say something aggressive, to uphold his reputation.

"Security won't do much good if I say I'm going to arrest you," Harry said menacingly. "And I will, Malfoy. I'll make something up if you don't explain to me _right now_ what you are doing with Hermione."

Draco felt like making a wild shrugging gesture, to indicate his confusion, but as he was lying on the ground, he settled for words. "Healing her?" he said, confused. "I really don't know what you mean." He pushed himself up on his elbows.

Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and pointed it at Draco's throat. "The hell you don't."

"What are you going to do, _Expelliarmus_ me?" Draco asked, laughing shakily. He had always thought it was pathetic that Harry had defeated Voldemort with a spell any first year could perform, though at the moment it seemed rather more menacing than it had in the past.

"How's the Cruciatus curse sound?" Harry snarled. "Or how about _Sectumsempra__?_"

Draco flinched at the memory of the slashing spell Harry had used on him in their sixth year. It had been one of the worst pains he'd ever felt, though he wasn't sure if it was worse than _Crucio._ He tried not to reveal his fear to Harry, who looked deadly serious. "You wouldn't."

"What. Are. You. Doing. With. Hermione." Harry said, articulating each word. He moved his wand to aim directly at Draco's nose.

"Nothing, Potter. I swear." Draco was cowering now, but he was beyond caring. He didn't want to experience the sectumsempra curse again, and Harry looked more than angry enough to do it. Draco wondered what had happened that had made Harry so mad. Hermione must have told him _something_, though Draco would've thought she'd know to keep their friendship secret.

Growling, Harry whipped a piece of paper out of his pocket and, as if in response to Draco's thoughts, said, "'I think I'm falling for Malfoy. He hugged me, and I actually enjoyed it. But he would never want to date a muggle-born.' Here." He shoved the letter in Draco's face, but he never moved his wand.

Draco quickly scanned the letter and despite his situation, he felt himself grinning. He read it through again, and he began to understand what people meant when they claimed that their hearts "fluttered."

"Well, Potter, I'm glad to see you haven't overreacted like Hermione thought you would."

Harry flinched when Draco called her "Hermione," and pressed his wand against Draco's temple, his scowl deepening. "If you hurt her, Malfoy, I swear to God-"

"I'm not going to hurt her, Potter. Fuck. She was crying. What was I supposed to do?" Draco tried to act nonchalant to Harry, but it was hard to conceal the feelings of utter joy he was experiencing. Quotes from the letter kept running through his mind. _Completely different person from the one I knew in school… Been getting along really great … So cute… I feel as though I may be developing feelings for him._ Was _he_ developing feelings for _her? _Is that why he was so ecstatic about the things she'd written? Is that why he felt so sick when he thought about her possible death? Is that why he felt so inexplicably jealous whenever she talked about Harry or Ron?

"Oh, I don't know. How about call her a beaver, or a know-it-all, or insult her hair? You know, one of your old tactics." The look of rage on Harry's face as he said this was honestly scary to Draco. It was similar to the look Hermione had given him right before she'd slapped him in their third year. It seemed that Draco's constant mocking of Hermione in school – and the fact that Hermione had forgiven him for it – angered Harry immensely.

"Gee, Potter, didn't you read the letter-you-weren't-supposed-to-read at all?" Harry's face turned red and his scowl deepened, but he didn't try to defend himself. " I apologized to her for what I did in school. And she forgave me, obviously." Draco winked, which caused Harry to push the wand harder into his temple.

"You're leading her on. Hermione is very sensitive, and she's – she's – dying," Harry's voice cracked, but he swallowed hard and continued, "and I just want you to leave her alone. No more physical bullshit. Don't treat her like you think she's worth something, because then she'll think you actually _like_ her. And she'll end up getting hurt." Harry remembered Hermione's breakup with Ron. It had not been pretty. In fact, when Ron had ended things between them, Hermione had avoided contact with any of her friends for a month, even though Harry knew that she hadn't felt the relationship was going anywhere. It had taken her almost half a year to forgive Ron.

"I won't lead her on, Potter. Promise." Draco held up his hands in mock surrender. And, it _was_ true: Draco didn't intend to lead Hermione on at all – but that didn't mean, as Harry thought, that Draco would 'leave her alone.' It wasn't leading her on if he actually liked her. Draco decided that Harry didn't have to know this particular fact.

Harry paused, and then nodded as if coming to a decision. "I want to see her."

"What?"

"I want to-"

"I heard you, Potter. Just…" Draco paused, shaking his head. "Just no. I already told you, she may be-"

"I DON'T CARE!" Harry yelled. "I NEED to see her." Harry's voice took on a begging tone as he said the last words, and he looked on the verge of tears. Draco noticed the shift in power; now that Draco had something Harry wanted, he was back in charge.

"If you think I'm going to let you go in there and tell her that I saw that letter, you're dreaming," Draco said, shaking his head as if Harry was a fool. If Hermione knew that Draco had seen the letter, she'd be very uncomfortable around him, and maybe even request a different healer. "_I'm sure he would never want to date a muggle-born…"_

Draco was looking forward to proving Hermione wrong for once.

"Why wouldn't you want her to know?" Harry asked suspiciously. In fact, Harry was starting to regret his decision to show Draco the letter, because now Draco had leverage over Hermione, something to embarrass her with, and it seemed very odd that Draco did not want Hermione to know he'd seen it.

"Um, because then she'd request a different healer, and I'd lose all the money and fame that would come with inventing the cure?" Draco tried to say this with a tone meant to indicate that he thought Harry was an idiot, but it came out more as a question, as if he was asking Harry to believe his lies.

Harry seemed to not care for Draco's reasoning at all. "If I don't mention the letter, can I see her?"

"You aren't going to like what you see, Pot-"

"Can I see her?" The pressure on Draco's temple increased.

"Alright, fine." Draco said. "Just get your wand off of me." Instead of waiting for Harry to comply, Draco swatted the wand away. Harry didn't resist. Draco stood up and brushed his robes off. Then he turned his wand on Harry.

"What the-"

"Protective spells, Potter." Draco muttered a few spells. "They'll last for a while, and they aren't guaranteed – you're a huge liability here. Don't let my boss see you go in."

Draco started to follow Harry out of the office, but Harry stopped him with a raised hand. "I go alone." Draco shrugged.

"Only room on the left side of the hall." Harry nodded and left, leaving Draco to his thoughts and, though Harry didn't realize it, Hermione's letter.

* * *

When Harry entered Hermione's room, he was fully prepared to break his promise to Draco and scold her for her lapse in judgment. Instead, when he saw her, his anger immediately dissipated. She looked horrible. Though she screamed in excitement when she saw him, all Harry could notice was how different – how sick – she appeared. It pained him to look at her.

"Harry!" she cried, with a huge smile on her face. She held out her arms for a hug, and Harry was struck by how thin they had become. Her skin was off-color, and her hair hung lank around her shoulders. Her face was noticeably thinner, her cheeks slightly sunken. In the month since he'd last seen her, she had definitely changed. Quickly, though, he hid his surprise at her appearance and ran to her bed, grasping her tightly in a hug.

"What are you doing here?" exclaimed Hermione. "How did you – did Dra- I, I mean, Malfoy – let you in?"

"Took a lot of convincing," Harry said with a grin. "But he let me, yeah."

"Oh, Harry, it's so good to see you," Hermione gushed as Harry sat beside her in the bed. "It's been so long. Letters just aren't the same. How are you?"

Harry shrugged. "Fine, I guess. But that doesn't matter. How are you?" Deciding to test the waters, he continued, "How's Malfoy treating you?"

Hermione's cheeks immediately turned red, and she looked down at the sheets. "Oh, he's, you know – well, he's been alright, I mean – Malfoy is Malfoy, I suppose." So she wasn't going to tell him what she'd told Ginny. Harry was slightly stung.

"Should I have punched him in the face?" Harry asked, pretending as though he hadn't already done so.

"Oh, no!" Hermione gasped. "I mean, he's been – not mean, or anything. No need to punch him." Harry put his arm around Hermione and pulled her to him.

"Fine. But I think I should punch him anyway, just to keep up appearances."

Hermione laughed. "I don't think the head of the Aurors should be going around punching people. Very unprofessional."

"I suppose I shouldn't take St. Mungo's top healer out of commission," Harry joked. "So how's your – ah –"

"Disease?" Hermione asked rather calmly. "Well, Dra- Malfoy says it's getting slowly worse. The symptoms are becoming slightly resistant to the normal healing potions, I'm never hungry, I had a vomiting fit the other day. But he's working on a cure, and I've got around five months left at least, so…"

"You sound rather optimistic." Harry, on the other hand, was not feeling very optimistic at all.

"Well, Dra-" Hermione cleared her throat. "Malfoy is the best, after all, so I suppose he's the best chance I've got."

There was an exaggerated pause. "So, can I see your leg?"

* * *

As soon as Harry left Draco's office, Draco got to thinking. Why was Harry so angry that Hermione had said she'd liked him? Okay, so they hadn't been the best of friends in school, and he'd done some pretty bad things, but, as Hermione had clearly mentioned in the letter, he'd apologized. And if Hermione had forgiven him, it should follow that Harry would at least feel a _little_ less hostile towards him, especially since Draco was working on saving Hermione's life, and all that.

Of course, Draco could understand Harry still being angry. Draco wasn't exactly fond of Harry either. But punching him in the face and threatening to arrest him? That seemed a little extreme. And it seemed out of nowhere. And wasn't Ron the one who usually had anger control problems? Yes, Draco would have expected this kind of reaction out of Ron, but not out of Harry. Of course, Ron had been in love with Hermione all throughout school, everyone knew...

_Wait a moment. If Ron was usually the one who got angry, and Ron was also the one who was in love with Hermione, and now Harry is the one who got angry … It follows that Harry must be in love with Hermione. Harry and Hermione … They must be having an affair behind the Weasley girl's back!_ And if Harry and Hermione were having an affair, that might mean they were in Hermione's room now, hugging and kissing and cuddling, and – Draco couldn't think about it anymore.

Only about five minutes after Harry had left, Draco followed.

* * *

_There was an exaggerated pause. "So, can I see your leg?" _

"I wouldn't, Potter." Draco said, entering the room. Jealousy entered him when he saw that Harry and Hermione were sitting in the same position that he and Hermione had been sitting in only a day prior. Harry instinctively grasped Hermione closer to him.

"What are you doing here? You said I could see her."

"And see her you have. I didn't say you had unlimited time."

"I've barely had _any_ time."

"I'm not going to just stand by while you cheat on your wife, Potter. It's not ethical."

Harry stared at Draco with his mouth agape, unable to find the words to respond with. Draco merely waited with his arms crossed while Harry's mouth open and closed. It was Hermione who responded first.

"We're just friends, Dra- Malfoy." Hermione said, and although Draco had wanted Hermione to hide their relationship from Harry, he was slightly hurt when she called him Malfoy.

"I'm not cheating on Ginny!" Harry finally exclaimed, and Draco gave him a long-suffering look. It was as though Harry had not heard Hermione's words at all.

"Well, your business is your business. Still, I wouldn't advise sexual activity with a Crupulus victim, because as I said, it could be-"

"Draco, we are NOT having… what the hell happened to your face?" She had finally leaned around Harry to scold him properly, and had seen his face. A deep purple bruise had formed just under Draco's right eye, where Harry had punched him. Draco could have easily removed said bruise, but then he wouldn't have any leverage against Harry.

Giving a very meaningful stare to Harry, Draco replied, "Oh, this? I don't quite recall…" he trailed off.

Harry instantly leapt off of Hermione's bed at these words, getting the message. "Well, Hermione, I guess I better get going." He didn't want Hermione to know he'd punched Draco.

Hermione glanced between the two of them suspiciously, but for the moment she decided to let it drop. After all, she didn't want to question Harry when he was about to leave. With Draco, she had unlimited time. She made a mental note to question him more later. "But I don't want you to leave yet," Hermione said, grabbing at his hand before he could get too far away. "You just got here. Draco, he just got here," She added, trying to make Draco feel in charge so he would be more willing to let Harry stay.

"He wasn't even supposed to come in at all. If he hadn't threaten…blegh." Draco cut off his sentence with a random noise at the look Harry gave him.

"Threatened you? He threatened you?" Hermione had caught on, anyway.

"No. What I meant was –" Draco said, while at the same time Harry said, "He wouldn't let me see you otherwise…" Thankfully, their words overpowered each other, and Hermione couldn't make out what either of them had said.

Hermione narrowed her eyes and stared at them both. She almost laughed at the fact that they both had the same sheepish smiles on their faces, like little kids who'd done something wrong. "What is going on here?"

Harry jumped in to explain. "We just had a little bit of a fight about whether or not I could see you, is all. We worked it out." Draco nodded his agreement.

"Draco, I want Harry to stay." Hermione had forgotten to use Draco's surname in Harry's presence.

"Well I'm sorry, Hermione, but-"

Harry said, at the same time, "I really should be leaving, Hermione-"

"Fine," Hermione said grumpily, releasing Harry's hand. She didn't want to end Harry's visit on a bad note, so she smiled at him and said, "I'm glad I got to see you at all." She glared at Draco.

"Me too, Hermione," Harry said. "Write me," he said, walking to the door after giving her a parting hug. "And you cure her, Malfoy."

"Don't be bringing your boyfriend Weasley – or your girlfriend Weasley, for that matter – here. I won't let them in. My boss would kill me."

"Fine," Harry said, opening the door. "Remember what I said," he muttered to Draco. "See you, Hermione," he called, and then he left.

"What was that all about?" Hermione said instantly, crossing her arms.

"What was what all about?" Draco asked innocently. He walked towards her bed with the intention of sitting on it, but at the look she gave him he sat down quickly on her clothes trunk, as if that was where he'd always intended to sit.

"There's something you aren't telling me." She paused, and then said, "What happened to your face?"

Draco touched his bruise. "Oh, this? It's nothing. Really." He did a spell on it, and the bruise vanished. "See? Nothing to worry about."

"How did it happen?"

"It's unimportant… I tripped and hit my face, no big deal."

"Harry did it, didn't he? He punched you?" At the look on Draco's face, Hermione knew she was right.

"He may have." Draco said, sighing.

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't let him see you."

Hermione considered this. It seemed logical, and considering that Hermione felt like punching Draco for kicking Harry out so soon, reasonable. She nodded, and then said, "Well, why did you have to kick him out so early?"

"Because… Well… I mean…" Draco spluttered, "He wasn't even supposed to be here. My boss could have seen."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Your boss never comes in here, Draco. You know that." She paused, seething, and then said, "I haven't been able to see anyone but you for the past month. And I finally get to see my best friend, and you kick him out after barely five minutes."

Draco started to feel bad for having kicked Harry out. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever. Just leave me alone." Hermione was not reacting to his apology the way she had reacted to his other ones.

"But I said I'm sorry!" Given how easily she had forgiven him the last two times he had apologized, it came as a shock that she was reacting differently this time.

"You can't do something wrong just because you know you can apologize for it later," Hermione snapped. "Get out."

And Draco left, all the while thinking about the letter Hermione had written only a day before, about how she was falling for him, and hoping he hadn't just messed it up.


	18. Chapter 16

Draco paced back and forth across his office floor, frustration obvious on his face. "I apologized, but she didn't forgive me. Why didn't she forgive me?" Draco asked Blaise for the seventh time.

Blaise sighed. He'd already answered the question six times, and wondered how many different ways he could come up with to say the same thing. "You didn't mean it, mate. You have to _mean_ it."

It was as though Draco hadn't even heard him. "I mean, she can forgive me for almost _killing_ Weasley back in sixth year, but she can't forgive me for kicking Potter out? I let her see him, didn't I? I wasn't even supposed to do that. What's the big deal? I can go for months without seeing you."

"Gee, thanks," Blaise replied sarcastically. "Same to you." Draco just swatted his hand through the air as if to say, _you know what I mean._ "Hermione's a girl, Draco. Might make a difference. And she's dying, so spending time with her friends might seem a little more important than it normally does. Just guessing here."

"Yeah, well, she's not GOING to die. I'm going to cure her. Do you SEE this pile of notes? Do you SEE all of those flasks and cauldrons over there?" Draco made a sweeping gesture of the right side of his office, which was full of books, stacks of papers, and cauldrons full of bubbling variously-colored potions.

"Well, I do. She obviously can't, though. And how much do you tell her about your progress?"

"Not much," Draco admitted, running his hands through his hair. "But so what? She should know that I'll do it. I'm the best damn healer in centuries!"

"Could be exaggerating a bit," Blaise mumbled, and Draco scowled. "Anyway, you need to_ show_ her that you're sorry."

"Oh, maybe I should bring her some flowers," Draco snorted. "How am I supposed to _show_ her?" he challenged, crossing his arms, annoyed that Blaise was acting like it was so simple.

"You'll think of something, if it means that much to you." Blaise leaned back in Draco's chair, and opened his mouth to tell Draco a rumor he'd heard about Pansy Parkinson. But then a thought struck him, and he leaned forward again, planting his elbows on his knees. "Wait a minute. Why _does_ it mean so much to you? I thought you two were mortal enemies." Blaise raised his eyebrows expectantly.

"Well, I…." Draco trailed off, scratching the back of his neck. His cheeks flushed slightly.

"Oh man, I called it. You _like_ her, don't you?" When Draco's cheeks flared bright red, Blaise laced his fingers behind his neck smugly. "I knew it."

Draco didn't respond. Instead, he picked Hermione's letter up off of his desk and handed it to Blaise. Blaise read through it quickly, his smile increasing the farther down the page he got.

"I KNEW IT!" he yelled triumphantly, jumping up off his chair, and Draco couldn't help but smile. "Wow, you ruined that pretty quick," Blaise added, which caused Draco's smile to vanish.

"Yeah, well. I'll find some way to fix it. I'll think of something."

* * *

It was almost midnight, and though he could hear Ginny breathing evenly beside him, Harry couldn't sleep. All he could think about was Hermione. She was falling for Draco Malfoy. He honestly couldn't believe it. Sure, Harry'd always told Hermione that if Malfoy apologized, he'd be forgiven. Now that Malfoy _had_ apologized, at least to Hermione, Harry was finding it very hard to keep his word.

He trusted Hermione's judgment, he really did. But it was hard to believe that someone who had been such an asshole in the past could be 'sweet,' as she put it. And he certainly hadn't been sweet to Harry this afternoon. It was just hard to picture Malfoy being nice to anyone, especially a muggleborn.

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by a loud knocking on his front door. Ginny sat up instantly with a gasp, looking around wildly. "Teddy!" she cried and ran to their child's room. It was in her nature to be paranoid – after all, Harry had made a lot of enemies when he'd killed Voldemort, and not all of them were in Azkaban. Harry grabbed his wand and walked slowly down the stairs.

"_Lumos,_" he muttered quietly, creeping down. The knocking became louder. He reasoned that a burglar or dark wizard wouldn't be knocking on their front door, so he lowered his wand and opened the door.

It was Draco Malfoy. Harry suddenly wished he hadn't lowered his wand.

"Malfoy? What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" Harry demanded. Ginny and Teddy appeared at the top of the stairs, watching.

"I'm bringing you to St. Mungo's. Let's go." Draco seemed to be in a very bad mood.

"What? To Mungo's?" Harry asked, dumbfounded. "Why?" A pause, and then something clicked in Harry's mind."Hermione? Is she all right?" As he said this, he ran to get his cloak, and in his hurried panic he put it on crooked.

"She's fine." Harry sagged in relief, and took the time to redo his cloak. "Now come on. I'm bringing you to see her."

Harry could not think of any words to respond with. Thankfully, Ginny took care of that for him. "We're coming too," she called, running down the stairs with Teddy. "We want to see her."

Draco opened his mouth to say no, but then paused when he saw Ginny standing with her hands on her hips, ready to argue. Finally, he nodded. She clapped her hands together happily and ran to the closet. "While we're at it, where's the other Weasley?"

"You know, I'm a Potter now," Ginny pointed out, helping Teddy into his coat.

While Ginny scanned her coats, trying to choose one to wear, Harry contacted Ron via the Floo network. Though it took him nearly five minutes to wake Ron up, it took Ron only a second to apparate to Harry's house. They were all in their pajamas, but none of them cared. They were going to see Hermione.

"Apparating's blocked at this hour except for staff. So… you'll have to… touch me somehow," Draco said awkwardly, holding out his arm for side-along apparition. Teddy, who had never apparated before, was so thrilled that he clutched Draco's leg tightly. Draco almost lost his balance. Ginny didn't seem too shy about touching him, either, much to Harry's surprise, and she grasped his hand. Harry and Ron each grabbed as little of Draco as was possible.

Then Draco turned on the spot and apparated right outside of Hermione's room.

"Go visit," Draco said, detaching himself from the group. "I'll be in my office, it's right down the hall. Let me know before you leave. Don't stay too long or my boss will catch you, which is coincidentally why you're visiting at midnight instead of, you know, normal visiting hours." Draco turned towards his office, but stopped midstep and turned back around. " I almost forgot," he added, and performed protective charms on all of them.

Draco hoped this would be enough to show Hermione that he was truly sorry.

* * *

_Hermione and Draco were kissing, a deep, passionate kiss, unlike any kiss Hermione had ever experienced before. Draco's hands were on her waist, and hers were in his soft, beautiful hair, and she was almost collapsing from the pleasure of it all._

_ Wait, no – she was almost collapsing because she only had one leg. As soon as she realized this, she fell to the floor, and Draco didn't even bother trying to catch her. As she looked up at him, he laughed, and then said, "I'm __sorry__, Hermione."_

_ Hermione, Hermione, Hermione…_

Hermione awoke with a start. Someone was saying her name, but she knew it wasn't Draco, because the voice was distinctly feminine. She blinked furiously as the light to her room was flicked on, and then shrieked in astonishment. Standing by her bedside were Ginny, Harry, Ron, and Teddy. "Harry! Ginny! Ron! Teddy! What… how did you…"

"Malfoy brought us here," Ginny offered instantly. "He came and got us."

"Wha.. What?"

"Yeah. He knocked on our door in the middle of the night, scared us half to death, and then brought us here," Ginny explained. "Something about his boss seeing us if we came during normal visiting hours?" She shrugged, and then hugged Hermione. "At least we get to see you at all." Following his mother's cue, Teddy climbed up onto Hermione's bed and hugged her.

"Hi, Teddy," she said softly. She was Teddy's godmother, and they were very close. "I've missed you so much."

"Me too!" Teddy agreed, wiggling his way under the blankets with her.

Ron seemed very awkward. His face was pale, and his hands were shoved into the pockets of his still too-short pajama pants. He wasn't looking at Hermione. "Ron?" Hermione said with a smile, "Don't I get a hug?"

The awkwardness broken, Ron practically tripped in his hurry to embrace Hermione. She was startled to see that Ron's eyes appeared clouded over with tears. Hermione held on to him for longer than she normally would have. "I've missed you, too," she whispered to him, so that no one else would hear.

He merely nodded his agreement, and when he let go of her, found himself a spot on the edge of her bed. Ginny was sitting on Hermione's clothes trunk, grasping Hermione's hand, and Harry just stood, smiling at the situation.

Finally, they were all together again.

Hermione felt that she had never been happier in her life. Their long absence from each other made the time together feel more special, and she knew she would never take it for granted again. They talked for a long time about everything that she'd been missing, even the things they'd already talked about in their letters. Hermione was delighted to hear that Ron was taking Luna out to dinner in a couple of days, and not so delighted to hear that Neville had turned down yet another girl, saying that he would wait for Hermione. Teddy talked endlessly about his excitement for the Quidditch World Cup, which was coming up soon. Hermione had been excited, but she knew that she would probably have to miss it. With a pang, she realized Draco would probably have to miss it, too. She wondered if he'd been planning on going.

They talked for hours, and Teddy fell asleep next to Hermione. When it was seven in the morning, Ginny whispered, "Ron, Harry, take Teddy to Malfoy's office. I need to talk to Hermione for a moment." Harry knew better than to argue with his wife, and he cut Ron off with a look before he had the chance to argue. Harry tried not to wake Teddy as he lifted him, but was unsuccessful.

Harry and Ron both hugged Hermione for a long time, and though they stoically avoided tears, Hermione didn't. Teddy hugged her the longest, and cried when his father pulled him away.

"Maybe we'll see you again soon," Harry said hopefully.

"I hope so," Hermione agreed, wiping away her tears. Harry, Ron and Teddy left the room, and Hermione and Ginny were left alone. Ginny moved to sit on Hermione's bed with her.

"I was going to write you a letter, but since I'm here…" Ginny began. Hermione hid her face in her hands.

"Oh, I would've preferred a letter. It's too embarrassing to talk about face to face."

Ginny pulled Hermione's hands down. "Hermione, it's not embarrassing. That man is _fine_. He certainly has matured a lot since I last saw him. That hair – not that I don't love Harry's – but that color of blonde, I mean … Wow. I would be surprised if you _didn't_ develop feelings for him."

"Ginny!" Hermione gasped, laughing. She had the suspicion that Ginny was trying to make the conversation easier and less embarrassing. "I don't like him for his looks." Ginny raised an eyebrow, so Hermione added, "But they don't hurt." Ginny laughed.

"So you were pretty vague in your letter. Tell me _exactly_ what's been happening."Ginny desperately wanted to tell Hermione that Draco had seen the letter, but Harry had made her swear not to. He claimed it would make Hermione feel too awkward, but Ginny had a suspicion that Harry simply didn't want Hermione to know that he'd shown the letter to Draco without her permission.

Hermione talked for nearly a half an hour about her growing feelings for Draco. "So then I started throwing up, and he held my hair up for me, and after that I was crying, because… well, you know. Anyway, I was crying and he got into bed with me, he put his arm around me, and I couldn't help it, I just collapsed on him. I just needed physical contact, and he was there, but the thing is, it felt so … God, this sounds lame, but it felt _right._ I mean, you'd think with _Draco Malfoy_ it wouldn't. But it did. He rubbed my back, and it was just so sweet. I couldn't even believe it was the same person who tormented me in school for seven years."

"That is so romantic," Ginny uttered with a sigh, falling dramatically back onto Hermione's pillows.

"Yeah. But yesterday he was a huge jerk, and he kicked Harry out after only five minutes… Well, I guess he made up for that today." Hermione mused while Ginny nodded vigorously. "What do you think I should do?"

"You should go for it," Ginny said without hesitation.

"Go for it?" Hermione asked, surprised. Ginny's advice had come so quickly and was the opposite of what Hermione expected.

"Go for _him_, I mean." Ginny wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Are you sure _you_ don't want to go for him?" Hermione remarked with a laugh.

"Nah. I love Harry. He's all yours."

"Ginny, you're ignoring the central problem. I like him. That doesn't mean he likes me. I'm a muggleborn. Too low for his status. What about that?"

Ginny looked at Hermione in disbelief. "Hermione. He comforted you. He rubbed your back. _He came to my house_ in the middle of the night to get us, just to show you he was sorry. I think I can safely say that he likes you."

"But his parents, his status-"

"Hermione," Ginny began exasperatedly, "_Listen_ to me. You said he apologized, right?" Hermione nodded tentatively, and Ginny threw up her arms in triumph. "See? He feels bad. He's a different person, _changed_, you said. He feels bad for how he treated you and how he acted." Ginny paused, waiting for Hermione to get the point, but when Hermione remained silent, she continued slowly, " It seems to me that also means he feels bad for, you know, belittling you just because you're a muggleborn."

"But-"

"He's smart, and I'm sure he realizes that you're much smarter, prettier, and, well, _cleaner_ than he ever thought muggleborns could be. You said it yourself, it was his father's fault that he hated muggleborns. His father's in Azkaban. He's different now. You should _go for it_." Ginny grabbed Hermione's shoulders and shook her slightly at the last three words.

Hermione was a smart, logical person. And Ginny's logic made sense. But it was hard to overcome all of the evidence of the past. She wanted to _know_ if he liked her. Ginny could theorize all she wanted, but she could never know for sure. Of course, finding out for sure if Draco liked her would mean asking him, and there was no way she was going to make the first move.

Hermione sighed. "I guess you're right. Thanks, Gin." They hugged each other tightly. "Well, you'd better get going. Harry and Ron have been locked in Draco's office for a while, so…"

"Oh, hell. I forgot about that," Ginny exclaimed, jumping off of Hermione's bed. "Do NOT forget to write me about _everything_ that happens. All the details." Ginny walked briskly towards Hermione's door, but turned back to give her a final hug.

"Don't forget to tell _me _how bad Draco's office is torn up."

"I won't," Ginny called over her shoulder, and quickly left the room, heading towards Draco's office.

* * *

Ginny was utterly surprised at the scene she walked into when she entered Draco's office.

There was no chaos. No fighting. No yelling. Nothing that she had been expecting. In fact, it was perfectly quiet. Teddy was asleep in his father's lap, Ron was actually _reading_ a book about Crupulus, and Draco seemed to be concocting a potion.

"Oh, I get it. So you're adding the phoenix tears to counteract the toxins in the infection?" Ron asked.

"Exactly," Draco replied, stirring the potion. "I'm hoping the tears will get rid of the infection. Since phoenix tears can combat basilisk venom, which is-"

"One of the strongest, deadliest venoms in the world," Harry interrupted, proud of his knowledge.

"Right," begrudged Draco, who _never_ reacted well to being interrupted. "I'm hoping they'll take care of the Crupulus toxins."

Ron was nodding now, as though he understood everything Draco was saying. This would normally astonish Ginny, but she was too busy being astonished that Ron, Harry and Draco weren't killing each other to be astonished by Ron's sudden brainpower.

"And for the vomiting, you're using…?" Ron asked, searching the pages of his book.

"Essence of Murtlap," Draco said. "Strangely enough, I got the idea from your brother's Puking Pastilles."

No one had even seemed to notice Ginny enter, so she cleared her throat and asked, "Uh… Ready to go?"

As if they'd been caught cheating, all three men jumped. Then Harry quickly said, "Yes, yes, we're ready." Ron nodded his agreement, and they quickly gathered around Ginny.

"Well… see you," Draco said awkwardly. "You should be able to disapparate."

"Alright. Well. Bye," Holding Teddy to his side, Harry disapparated. Ron gave a quick nod, and followed shortly afterward.

Ginny knew she couldn't linger for long before Harry and Ron became suspicious. Quickly turning to Draco, she looked him in the eye.

"Go for it, Malfoy. She's waiting for you." And then she disapparated, too.


	19. Chapter 17

Draco wasn't sure exactly what Ginny had meant when she'd said to go for it, but he had some ideas. He only hoped his ideas were right as he tentatively entered Hermione's room, carrying a tray of food.

He found Hermione sitting up in her bed with her arms folded, as though she'd been waiting for him. She looked neither mad nor happy.

Crossing the room in silence, he held the tray of food towards her. She motioned for him to set it on her bedside table, which he did. She didn't seem to be in a good mood, which was disappointing. He had been so _sure_ she would forgive him.

She was staring at him in a very calculating manner. He just stood there, unsure of what to do. He was about to say something when Hermione, unable to reach his upper body, threw her arms around his hips in a tight embrace. Draco almost fell down right on top of her.

"Oh, Draco…" she said with her face pressed tight against his stomach. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

Draco sighed in relief. He had thought she was still mad at him. Taking her hug as a cue that she was not, he loosened her arms around him and sat down beside her in the bed. She immediately locked her arms around him again, though this time they were around his torso.

"Thank you," she repeated, squeezing him a bit tighter, and Draco felt happier than he'd ever felt in his life. He draped an arm across her shoulders. He wanted to pull her into his lap, to hold her, and he _desperately_ wanted to kiss her, but he didn't want to make the first move. Though – _maybe that's what the Weasley girl meant?_ '_She's waiting for you…'_

"Why did you do it?" Hermione asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

"To show you I was sorry." Draco rested his chin against the top of her head. He waited for her to pull away, but she didn't.

"No, I know that. I mean –" Hermione hesitated, her heart pounding so hard she was scared Draco would hear it. She hid her face against his chest; if she didn't, she wouldn't have had the courage to say what she said next, so softly that she could barely hear herself: "Why do you care if I forgive you?"

Hermione felt Draco go stiff against her, and she feared she'd said too much.

How could he respond? Draco knew what Hermione wanted to hear, but he didn't know how to say it. He wanted to say it. But he didn't know how.

_'Go for it,' _the Weasley girl had told him. _Well, here goes nothing._

Draco did what he had been wanting to do for days – he wrapped his arms around Hermione and easily lifted her onto his lap. She gasped in surprise, but she didn't resist. She was stunned and had no idea how to react or what to say. She just stared at Draco with her eyes wide, and he could tell she was almost as nervous as he was.

"I care because…" Draco trailed off as he reached out and tucked a loose curl behind Hermione's ear. She was still sitting completely still, dumbfounded. "I care because…"

And then Draco kissed her.


	20. Chapter 18

**A/N: I am sorry that this took so long. I was going to write a huge list of excuses, but I'll just leave it at this: I have been extremely busy, and my beta has been extremely busy. So this chapter took a lot longer than it should have.**

**Which leads me to ask: Would you prefer it if I posted each chapter as it was finished, even though it may take a long time between chapters, OR, if I finished the story, even if it may take a while, and then posted each chapter on a schedule, like every other day or every week or something? Let me know in reviews. I just wonder if you'd rather get it in a block where you KNOW when the next chapter will be posted, or just have me post each one as I finish it.**

**Another reason this has taken so long is because I have another D/Hr idea bouncing around in my head, and it won't leave. But I REFUSE to start another story until this one is done.  
**

**Okay so... Sorry again and enjoy. **

At first, Draco's kiss so overwhelmed Hermione that she could process no other thoughts. His hands were on her lower back, holding her to him, and she found herself leaning into him, deepening their kiss, and even sliding her fingers into his hair, messing it up like he would never normally allow.

While Ron's kisses had been shy and insecure, and Viktor's had been almost forceful, Draco's were confident and controlling. Draco guided the kiss, and Hermione wasn't complaining. He was obviously experienced. His hands slid up under her shirt slightly, and the skin-on-skin contact made her shiver. She couldn't seem to wrap her mind around the fact that she was kissing Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin prince. Even more bizarre was that _he_ was kissing _her._

All she could think was that Ginny was right. And that his past girlfriends had been very lucky.

She wanted the kiss to last forever. She wanted to keep kissing him until she ran out of oxygen. Unfortunately, Draco didn't seem to share her death wish, and he ended the kiss, taking a deep breath. When he pulled his lips from hers, at first she just wanted to kiss him again. But then she regained the ability of coherent thought. The worries and doubts she had about Draco raced into her mind, no matter how hard she tried to suppress them. And oh, how she wanted to suppress them, because Draco had started to kiss her neck, and it felt unbelievably good – Ron had never really gotten the hang of it – but once the thoughts were there, she couldn't get them to go away.

Reluctantly, she pushed against Draco's chest, and immediately ached at the absence of his mouth on her neck. Draco looked at her, confused. "Did I do something wrong?" he asked, sounding as if no answer she gave would make him believe that was possible.

"No," Hermione replied instantly, and then, "Well, maybe."

"Maybe?" Draco asked, his look of confusion deepening. Hermione felt extremely awkward, as she was still sitting in his lap, inches from his face. There was a tense silence while Hermione tried to think of the least offensive way to express her thoughts to him.

"Draco, why did you kiss me?" she asked, placing her hand on her neck where Draco's mouth had been. She stared at her legs to distract herself from the fact that she was still within kissing distance. When she had told Ginny about her feelings for Draco, she would never have guessed that merely hours later she would have him kissing her neck.

Draco appeared to be getting irritated. "I would've thought that was fairly obvious," he said, and for effect, kissed her again. For a blissful moment, Hermione's thoughts were snuffed out of existence. But unfortunately, they found their way back, and she pulled her lips from Draco's.

"What I mean is," she said as she pushed him away, now getting irritated herself, "Is this some kind of pity kiss? Because I'm dying? "

Draco's eyes narrowed as he stiffly replied, "No. It's not." Hermione could see the frustration in the clenching of Draco's jaw.

"Then what? You think you can just kiss me and – and –" Hermione, faltered for a moment. "You think this is some kind of one night stand? Because I'm dying, you can do what you want with no commitment?" Hermione couldn't stop the accusations from flying out of her mouth. She was reverting back to her old way of thinking: that Draco was a selfish bastard who only cared about himself. She knew now that that wasn't the case, but she couldn't think of any reason as to why Draco would make a move on a dying girl.

Draco could only stare blankly, his own thoughts concealed. With an angry shove, he pushed Hermione from his lap and stood up. "Yeah, _Granger,_" he sneered, obviously enraged at her statements. "That's it. I'm trying to have my way with you before you die. Because it's _so_ hard for me to find girls that _aren't_ diseased."

Hermione flinched at his words, but didn't respond. She understood why Draco was angry. She was acting like they'd made no progress at all in their friendship, like they were still enemies. Still, she couldn't bring herself to understand exactly what Draco had meant by kissing her.

Draco had turned to leave the room, but Hermione spoke again. "Then why, Draco? What are we supposed to do now?"

Draco's shoulders stiffened, and though he didn't turn around to face her, Hermione was relieved that he was at least willing to talk to her. "What do you mean?" She could tell that he was extremely angry and was only just managing to contain it.

"If this was just a – an honest kiss – I –"

Draco turned on his heel and glared at her. The look on his face was almost scary.

"An honest kiss? What do you mean, an honest kiss?"

"I-"

"Merlin, Granger, I had no ulterior motives. Is that so damn hard to believe?" Draco ran his hand through his hair in obvious frustration. "I'm not trying to devirginize you. I'm not taking pity on you. I'm not doing this because I think you're going to die. I just –" Draco let out a growl. "Had you even considered that maybe I just wanted to kiss you?"

Draco's words shocked Hermione. It was hard for her to believe that he had kissed her for no reason other than he wanted to. She tried to leave her expression neutral as she said, "Well then. What do we do now? Are we supposed to start dating? Draco, I'm _dying_. And now- I mean – we can't take that kiss back – and I just – _what are we supposed to do now?_" She had started out calmly, but by the end of her words, she was flustered and confused.

Draco clenched his fists. He hated talking about this sort of thing, which was why he had skipped straight to kissing. "You aren't going to die, okay? Stop saying that."

"But I _am_ dying. We can't just ignor-"

"Hermione!" Draco snapped, cutting her off. "You. Aren't. Going. To. Die. I'm going to cure you. Alright? So stop freaking out. It's not that big of a deal."

"But-"

"If you want to forget it ever happened, then fine," Draco said, not meeting her eyes. "I'll go along with it."

There was a long silence. Hermione looked down at her legs and said nothing. She didn't want to forget that it had happened. She wanted it to happen again. She wanted it to _keep_ happening. "I don't want to forget," she muttered quietly.

Not knowing what to say to that, Draco merely nodded.

There was another silence, long and uncomfortable.

"I don't want – this –" Hermione said, vaguely gesturing to the both of them, "to get in the way of – you know – finding the cure-"

"Don't patronize me, Granger." Draco seemed to revert to her surname whenever he was angry or irritated. "It won't. In fact, I already have a prototype that's almost-"

"You do?" Hermione said, sitting up straighter in excitement. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I'm telling you now." Draco's anger began to dissipate at Hermione's excitement, and he was very happy that the topic had changed. He hoped Hermione hadn't noticed that he had never answered her most important question: _what do we do now?_

"Well when can we test it?"

"I don't know. I'm still working out the side effects."

"Side effects? Draco, who cares about side effects? I already have every symptom possible. I want to be cured! Let's try it."

"It could intensify your symptoms," Draco snapped, not liking being argued with. "It's not ready yet. Like I said, _almost._"

"Well what are you doing in here kissing me? Go work on it!" Hermione seemed half annoyed and half excited. Draco wanted to be angry at being ordered around, but found that he couldn't. He chuckled lightly.

"Whatever you say, boss." He turned to leave the room.

"Draco?" He heard her say lightly before he left. He turned back around. She was staring at her hands, which were clenched together in her lap. "I – well – I just –" She reached up and touched her neck where he had kissed her. "Thank you. For everything."

"Anytime," Draco said, chuckling again. And he really meant it.

Draco, pushed forward by Hermione's excitement, immediately began working on the cure's prototype. He simmered the potion, added random ingredients that he thought would help, and performed various charms on it. He worked on the potion for hours, undisturbed by Hermione, (he figured this was on purpose), until he finally declared that there was nothing left for him to do but test it out.

Testing, however, was the part that scared him. After all, brewing the potion couldn't cause anyone any harm – well, unless it somehow exploded on him, but Draco was confident that wouldn't happen. But testing was different. Any number of things could be wrong with the potion, and there was really no way to tell if it was effective right away. It would be a waiting game, seeing if Hermione's symptoms persisted or lessened, seeing if the green on her leg subsided, and seeing if the side effects were too much for the potion to be considered useful. Hermione was excited to begin testing, but Draco didn't see it that way. Her health was in his hands, and though he was normally okay with the responsibility, with her, it was different. He didn't want her to die, especially if he was responsible.

He knew that the potion wasn't going to be lethal, of course. He had used only trusted ingredients, only in tested combinations. He knew that essence of murtlap and phoenix tears wouldn't have a negative reaction. He knew that boomslang skin and unicorn hair were okay in the same potion. Everything about the cure had been researched, tested, observed, and recorded. Everything except for the cure itself, and whether or not it would work.

He had to find out sometime. He might as well find out now.

So, he walked a small flask of the silvery potion into Hermione's room. She was occupying herself by reading a huge Crupulus tome. She looked up when he entered, and upon seeing what was in his hand, smiled in excitement.

"Is it ready?"

"As ready as it ever will be," Draco said, actually nervous about his work being scrutinized. "Now, just remember that this probably won't work the first time, so-"

"I know it won't. But it's the first step. Here." She held out her hand for the potion. Draco was reluctant to give it over, but had no reason not to. He gave it to her and she drank it down instantly. "Huh. Tastes surprisingly good."

Draco nodded proudly. "I added some mint to it."

Hermione looked down at herself as if expecting her body to begin morphing. "So… when can we tell if it worked?"

"It's not polyjuice potion. It'll take a couple of days." For reasons he couldn't explain, Draco felt completely overwhelmed by the urge to kiss her again.

"How will we tell?"

"_I_," Draco emphasized, "will be able to tell by the occurrence of your symptoms, and by the coloration of your leg. If the potion is successful then in a couple of days the green should disappear. But like I said, the first-"

"I know, I know. I'm just wondering." Hermione leaned her head back against the headboard. "So now we wait."

"Now we wait," Draco agreed, and put his hands into his pockets as though he was going to do his waiting right there.

"Well," Hermione said slowly, "If all we have to do is wait, I guess we _might as well_ pop in a DVD of Lost…"

Draco's reaction was instant. Without a word, he strode over to the DVD player and inserted the disc. Hermione laughed. "That didn't take much convincing." Hermione scooted over in her bed to make room for him, and he obliged. He even put his legs under the blankets with hers, which he had never done before. Confidently, he put his arm around Hermione and pulled her into his side. Hermione leaned her head against him. She was overcome by the urge to ask him what this was – if they were in a relationship, or what was going on between them – but the excited look on Draco's face as the Lost menu screen came on was so cute, Hermione pushed her thoughts aside. For the moment, she was content to have what she had told Ginny she'd wanted - a relationship with Draco Malfoy.

"We're going to get answers this time," Draco assured her as he pushed play. "I just know it."

Hermione laughed, and wished she was as confident as Draco that answers would be coming her way soon.


	21. Chapter 19

**Again, sorry for the long lapse between chapters. Same excuses as always. The next chapter is currently being edited / revised and I hope I'll be able to post it in a more timely fashion than I have been, BUT NO PROMISES! In the meantime, I recommend you read "Parade of the Sun" by Sage, because it is just. Amazing. **

**OKAY HERE WE GO. **

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When Draco awoke, he realized before even opening his eyes that something was amiss.

First of all, the sheets he was laying on were _definitely_ not the 350 thread count Egyptian cotton sheets he was accustomed to. No, these sheets felt scratchy and stiff and - did he detect _polyester?_

Secondly, he noticed an issue with his pillow in that there was only one of them. He was used to having at _least_ four or five pillows surrounding him. Not a singular, flat, deflated, sad excuse for a pillow.

Thirdly, and perhaps most importantly: the sun was entering the room at such strength that he could see it through his eyelids, even with the sheets pulled over his head. He never left the curtains to his room open, ever. The sun should not be able to get into his room.

This led him to deduce that he was not, in fact, in his room. So where was he? He wasn't about to open his eyes to the blaring sun to find out.

He felt movement to his right, and knew there was someone next to him. Thinking back, he couldn't remember falling asleep with a girl – in fact, he couldn't remember going to sleep at all. The last thing he could remember was watching Lost with Hermione.

He sat bolt upright, the blanket still covering his head. He must have fallen asleep in her bed! He was worried that someone would walk in and see him until he remembered he was the only one authorized to even be in the room.

Hermione, who had been awoken by his movement, cracked up at the sight of him . Embarrassed, Draco pulled the blanket off of his head, partially relieved and partially disappointed to find that he was fully clothed. He had half hoped that he and Hermione had participated in some inappropriate acts that he hadn't yet remembered.

"Uh…Morning," Draco offered, feeling slighted that he had to go through the post-sex awkwardness without actually having any sex.

"Morning," Hermione, still giggling from his blanket mishap, said as she fanned herself. "God, it's hot in here."

Hermione's casual remark about the temperature in the room snapped Draco out of his morning grogginess. The room was definitely _not_ hot; Draco would know, because even though Hermione had kicked all of her blankets off onto him, he was still slightly chilly. This made her comment even more disturbing, and Draco glanced at her, noticing that her hair was damp with sweat and her face was bright red. He reached over and laid a hand on her cheek. Her skin was hot to the touch. Disappointment washed over him instantly as he realized the implications.

"You have a fever," Draco informed her, straightening his robes. "The potion didn't work." He had never expected his first attempt to succeed, but it was still a let down. He practically groaned in anticipation of the work it would require to figure out what had been the problem with the first potion.

"Are you sure?" she asked in distress as she fashioned her sweaty hair into a ponytail to get it off of her neck. "Isn't a fever the body's way of fighting off diseases? It could be working!"

"You're thinking of muggle diseases. Anyway, we knew it wouldn't work the first time." Draco cracked his neck, which hurt from lack of pillows. He was embarrassed that his work had failed.

"But… maybe it worked! Check my leg!" Hermione insisted, pulling off the sweater she had put on the night before. Draco tried not to be distracted by the flash of stomach Hermione displayed as her sweater dragged her tank top up with it.

"I will, but don't get your hopes up. First, let's give you a fever reducer." Draco reached into his pocket for his wand, but it wasn't there. He found it after a frenzied search through the bed sheets, and conjured up the potion. Hermione drank it as though she was dehydrated-which, Draco conceded, she probably was, so he also conjured up a tall glass of water and handed it to her.

"Thanks," she said, and took a long drink. Then she offered it to him. "Want some?"

Draco took the glass from her gratefully; he had morning breath, and it left a bad taste in his mouth. It wasn't until he was already drinking that he realized he had always been repulsed by the idea of sharing food or drink with someone else, but it hadn't even crossed his mind in this case. He wouldn't even share a drink with Pansy, with whom he had experienced far more than a kiss. He shrugged off this exception as circumstance; after all, his mouth _did_ taste like crap.

"What time is it?" he asked, glancing over at Hermione to see if she even had a watch.

"Almost noon," Hermione said, pointing to a clock near the door. Draco noticed that she had a slight grin on her face.

"What are you grinning about?" Draco asked grumpily. "My boss would kill me if he knew I'd slept in here."

"N-Nothing," Hermione instantly tried to hide her grin. "Was I grinning?"

"Oh, come on, spit it out." Draco was growing increasingly irritated, mostly because the potion hadn't worked, and partly because he was worried that his boss had noticed his considerable absence from work.

"It's nothing," she said, looking somewhat self-conscious.

"What, Hermione? What is it?"

Frowning now, she finally relented. "Your hair, okay? Your hair. It looks cute. That's why I was grinning."

Draco reached up and felt his hair, and was horrified to find that his hand reached his hair about three inches before it reached his skull. He got up and started to walk out of the room. "Gotta get to work," he offered as an excuse, though really they both knew that he was going to fix his hair.

"Oh, okay," Hermione said. He noticed a hint of disappointment in her voice. Was it because the potion hadn't worked? It crossed his mind that she could be disappointed that he was acting rather distant. He remembered their kiss from yesterday, and felt incredibly awkward. Did she expect a kiss goodbye or something? "What about my leg?" she asked, interrupting his thought process.

"I'll be back soon to check on it," he told her, hoping that a promise to return soon would suffice. "I should just check into work first." _Fix my hair first._ Hermione smiled and nodded. "Call me if you need anything."

"See you, Draco."

Draco hurried down to hall in order to avoid running into anyone with his hair sticking straight up. He entered his office at a quick pace and shut the door behind him as though he was being chased. Blaise was asleep on Draco's desk.

"What the – what are you doing, Blaise? Wake up!"

Blaise snapped awake, and instantly began to explain himself. "I got here hours ago, and I fell asleep wai…" Blaise looked Draco up and down, taking in his rumbled clothing and disheveled hair. "Merlin's beard, you slept with her, didn't you?" Blaise asked, jumping up in excitement and slapping Draco on the back. "Tell me all about it, mate. How was she? Flexible? Kinky? Vanilla? Was she a virgin, or did you, in essence, sleep with the famous Viktor Krum?"

"Blaise, we didn't sleep together. Well, we slept together. We just didn't _sleep_ together. Not in the way you're thinking." Then what Blaise had been saying hit Draco, and he scratched the back of his neck. "You don't think she slept with Krum, do you?"

"I would have, if I was her," Blaise said matter-of-factly.

Draco raised his eyebrows as high as possible. "Good to know." He walked over to a mirror and began fixing his hair, all the while wondering about the state of Hermione's virginity.

"Well don't leave me hanging. What happened? Did you fool around a little, at least?"

"No." Draco sat down at his desk after his hair was in place. "We kissed."

Sounding disappointed, Blaise conceded, "Well, it's a start."

Draco sighed and folded his hands on his desktop. "Why have you been waiting for me?"

"Oh! Right. To show you this." Blaise grabbed a newspaper and slid it across the desk to Draco. It was the Daily Prophet, and Draco's picture graced the first page. The headline read, "FORMER DEATH EATER ATTEMPTS COVERT MURDER OF WAR HERO."

"What in the…" Draco skimmed the article quickly, silently growing more and more angry the farther he read.

_A hero of the war against You-Know-Who, Hermione Granger, has recently been striken with the incurable disease known as Crupulus. St. Mungo's Hospital has assured the Prophet that she is being well cared for by their best healer, Draco Malfoy._

_ BUT IS SHE?_

_ Shocking new evidence has come forth to indicate that the well-known former Death Eater, who was surprisingly cleared of all charges, is slowly killing Granger. Had Malfoy's charges not been cleared under suspicious circumstances, they would have included three counts of attempted murder, smuggling of dark items into Hogwarts, and allowing Death Eaters into Hogwarts, as well as numerous counts of illegal use of the Unforgivable Curses. _

_ Malfoy and Granger have a history of animosity towards each other. Being Harry Potter's best friend and ex-girlfriend, Granger had a natural rivalry with Malfoy, who was Potter's enemy at school. As if this weren't incentive enough, add to it that they were on opposite sides of the war, and the motive is clear. Granger and Malfoy have been heard shouting at each other in the hospital, and clearly this indicates that he is not the best person for her care. In fact, the Prophet has been told that Granger even requested a different healer, but was explicitly denied. _

_ Isolated and locked away in a hospital room day after day, Granger has been unable to comment on this story. However, sources reveal that Malfoy is her sole caretaker. He has even been overheard saying, "No one's going to be surprised if I can't come up with a cure." Is he using this as an excuse to slowly poison Granger? Over a month has gone by since her infection, and yet sources indicate that Granger has made no progress whatsoever towards health. This reporter wonders why this matter has not yet been investigated by Magical Law Enforcement. _

_-Rita Skeeter_

"Harsh, huh?" Blaise asked tentatively, reading Draco's angry expression. Draco was so angry that he couldn't even speak. "Bunch of bullshit. Where does she eve-"

"It's not bullshit," Draco said in a tight voice.

"What? 'Course it is."

"It isn't," Draco insisted, his voice rising in volume.

Blaise merely raised his eyebrows and shrugged. "Explain."

"Someone – Someone overheard…" Draco pointed to his quote in the paper. "I said that. To Potter. I was just trying to get on his nerves."

"Well, he probably told her," Blaise reasoned.

"No," Draco shook his head. "He didn't know that Hermione requested a different healer. Or that we've shouted at each other. Plus, he hates Rita Skeeter. And he wouldn't want to embarrass Hermione." Draco's hands were shaking in anger. "That bitch! I worked so hard to overcome my… reputation, and she does this! Who the fuck told her? Who?" Draco thought back, trying hard to think of anyone who had been near him and Potter during their fight, anyone who might have overheard him and Hermione fighting, anyone who might know that she had requested a different healer. He tried to think of anyone who held a grudge against him. That last list was easy to generate, but none of them could've been on the fifth floor of the hospital.

Except…

"Baker." Draco ripped the newspaper in half and threw it on the floor.

"I am going to kill him."


	22. Chapter 20

**A/N: I really am sorry the chapter updates take so long ... but I WILL finish this story, no matter how long it takes. **

**I SOLEMNLY SWEAR IT!  
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**FORMER DEATH EATER ATTACKS COWORKER IN ST. MUNGO'S HOSPITAL**

_Yesterday evening, the former Death Eater known as Draco Malfoy attacked his innocent coworker, Simon Baker, in the hospital at which they both work._

"_He just came at me," Baker said, fear in his eyes. "I was completely shocked. I thought we were friends. Why would he attack me?"_

_Baker was diligently studying a patient's case in his office when Malfoy burst into the room, growling. Pinning Baker against the wall, Malfoy aimed his wand at Baker's throat and threatened to kill him with the killing curse made famous by none other than he-who-must-not-be-named. He decided not to act on this initial urge, and instead performed a leg locking curse so that Baker could not escape or defend himself. Then Malfoy took the fight to muggle grounds, repeatedly punching Baker in his stomach and face._

"_It was horrifying," Baker said. "I thought he was going to kill me." _

_But why would Malfoy target Baker? _

"_I'm a better healer than him," Baker explains. "He was probably jealous." _

_One would assume that Malfoy would be fired for his rash, unexplained actions. However, the only punishment that has been enacted, much to Baker's chagrin, is a week long suspension. Is Malfoy's boss, prominent wizard Hubert Astley, simply being lenient? Or is he in on Malfoy's plan to slowly kill Hermione Granger, as seen in yesterdays __Prophet__?_

_This reporter advises any patient admitted to St. Mungo's to avoid the wrath of Draco Malfoy. _

Draco felt like pulling his hair out as he read the article. It was exaggeratory bullshit, but after reading it, he really did want to do the things Simon had said he'd done.

He hadn't done the things described in the article. In truth, he had pinned Simon against the wall, inquired as to why he had told Rita Skeeter the things he had, and then punched Simon once in the stomach when he wouldn't answer. This was meant to provoke Simon into talking, but all it did was provoke him into screaming, and their "fight" was interrupted before it could even begin. Draco had intended to cause Simon more harm, but he hadn't been able to. And he was pissed that the article was debasing his reputation further for something he hadn't even accomplished.

"_I should fire you, Draco. You know that."_

_Draco tried to look ashamed of himself, but it was hard to when he felt completely justified in his actions. "Sir, you know how long it took me to build up my reputation. I was angry because Simon had set me back."_

"_I know. And I understand your anger. But your actions were hasty and stupid. If you're going to attack someone, you should know better than to do it in your workplace."_

_Draco nodded and felt his face turning red. He hadn't thought his actions through at all. Simon wasn't worth losing his job over._

"_I'm giving you a week long suspension. You can't be in the hospital for that week."_

"_But what about Herm-"_

"_Miss Granger will be well taken care of in your absence. And I fully expect your work on the cure to continue for the week that you're gone." Draco wanted to ask if Simon would be the one taking care of Hermione, but held himself back. Fortunately, Astley seemed to read his mind. "I've put Michelle in charge of her care. It will be nice for Miss Granger to have female company for a change." Draco nodded, pleased with the choice. Michelle was a competent healer, and also wouldn't be prone to hitting on Hermione while he was away._

"_I've already informed Miss Granger of the situation – but I want you to go there and apologize yourself before you leave. That is all."_

_Draco turned to leave, and over his shoulder forced himself to say, "I'm sorry for my actions."_

_Astley merely nodded, and Draco left the room._

He had thought his conversation with Astley had been bad. He never expected it to be worse with Hermione.

_Draco entered Hermione's room, fully prepared to tell her he was leaving and have her weep in his arms while he consoled her, assuring her that he'd be back to take care of her. But the look on Hermione's face as he entered indicated that a sentimental goodbye was not in their future. _

_She looked pissed. _

_The rage emanating from her instantly rendered Draco speechless. He had no idea what to say._

"_How could you?" she asked quietly, her eyes narrowed in an intense glare. "How COULD you?" _

_Draco opened his mouth to respond, but soon discovered that Hermione didn't actually want him to answer the question._

"_You – you stupid – you wanker! You attacked him _in your place of work! _You got yourself kicked out. A whole week! And I just have to sit here – do you know how long a week is when you've only got months to live?"_

_Draco started to protest, but was again cut out of the conversation._

"_And over this article? Really?" She held up a Daily Prophet. "You couldn't control your actions because of one stupid article? Do you realize that because of you, Rita Skeeter wrote countless articles about Harry and I? You hypocrite!"_

"_Hermione-" Draco interjected, starting to get mad himself._

"_And anyone with any brains who reads this will know its bollocks. Why bother? Why give him the attention?" Draco remembered in school how annoyed it had made him whenever Hermione had told Harry and Ron to 'just ignore him. He's looking for attention.' _

"_You don't understand!" Draco finally yelled above her ranting._

"_Don't understand?" Hermione said slowly, lowering her eyebrows. "Please, enlighten me."_

"_I- I-" Draco scratched the back of his neck, and began pacing. "When I first started working here, nobody wanted me as their healer. The only patients I had were ones who were out of their minds, who thought I was their brother. They turned me away because of my …" Draco impulsively clutched his dark mark. "Unsavory past. It took me forever to build up my reputation, to get people to accept me as a healer. And now," Draco continued, his voice rising in anger at the whole situation, "people don't turn me away. They request me! And Simon took that all away from me. Astley's been getting letters – 'don't let that Malfoy near my son' and whatnot – all because of him. I've been set back four years."_

_Draco thought he saw a flash of sympathy cross Hermione's face, but it was gone so fast he was sure he had imagined it._

"_You could have talked to your boss. Talked to the Prophet. Sued the Prophet, sued Rita Skeeter. For Merlin's sake, you could have turned her in for being an unregistered animagus! Anything! But instead you decide to get yourself kicked out. I'll be in this hospital, all alone, with some healer I don't even know, who doesn't know how to take care of me properly – for a whole. Damn. Week. Didn't you think about your actions_? _Didn't you think about the consequences? Didn't you think about _me?_"_

"_Of course I thought!" Draco said, throwing his arms up. "I thought about how pissed off I was that the wanker went running to Skeeter! Don't you get it? He's ruined my career. Do you know how hard I've worked to-"_

"_Your career? Your career? I would think my life would be a little more important than your career, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled, and Draco was sufficiently stung by the use of his surname. _

"_It is more important! But I need to have this career in order to be involved with your life!" Draco couldn't understand why Hermione was so mad. He hadn't been fired, and he was going to continue work on the cure while he was gone. He still felt his actions were completely justified. _

"_Save it, okay? Don't even try and tell me that you attacked Simon for my good. You endangered your career by attacking him more than he endangered it by talking to Skeeter." Hermione crossed her arms and gazed out the window, as if to indicate that the conversation was over. _

_Draco could see the logic in that statement, even if he didn't want to admit it. "Shouldn't you be mad at Simon? This is all his fault." _

"_Oh, stop acting like a child. He didn't have you under the _Imperius_ curse. You didn't have to attack him." Hermione didn't look away from the window._

_Draco resigned himself to the fact that he wasn't going to change Hermione's mind. Obviously, she didn't care about the reasoning behind his actions. He ran his hands through his hair in defeat and, feeling that maybe she'd be more willing to listen after she cooled down a bit, approached her bed, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to-"_

"_Don't apologize if you don't mean it," she snapped, and pulled her shoulder out of his reach. "And don't touch me."_

"_I really _am_ sorry-"_

"_Just get out," she said, and he could hear the tears in her voice. Turned out he was getting a weeping goodbye after all._

"_Hermione-"_

"_I said get out!" she snarled, and in one swift motion she grabbed her wand and leveled it at him. The combination of the tears on her cheeks and the anger in her eyes sent a wave of guilt into Draco. He had only meant to hurt Simon, not her. Sensing defeat, he backed out of the room._

"_I'm sorry," he muttered as he closed the door behind him. He really was apologizing too much lately. _

After that horrible conversation, Draco had written instructions for Michelle and left the hospital. He tried not to think about Hermione, but it was rather hard, with the instruments for developing the cure all around him. He had gone to the Manor, which had much more room for a potions lab than his apartment did. His mother was delighted to have him home for the week; of course, she didn't know that he was developing feelings for a muggle-born.

Feeling that he was far too distracted to work on the cure, he decided to call it a night. As he crawled into his bed, he couldn't help but think of how lonely it felt to know Hermione wasn't a hallway away.

"Good biscuits, Hagrid," Harry said truthfully through a mouthful of one. "That cookbook Hermione got you seems to be having a positive effect on your cooking." Now that Hagrid's cooking was actually good, Harry felt no qualms joking about the poor quality of the rock cakes Hagrid used to produce.

Ron managed to mumble what Harry assumed was an agreement through a bigger mouthful of said biscuits.

"Hermione is a great gift giver," Ginny added. "Very perceptive." Harry nodded, thinking of his Broom grooming kit, which he still used frequently.

"I miss havin' 'Mione around," Hagrid, wearing a giant apron, said. "Wish I could visit her."

"You're not alone on that one, Hagrid," said Neville Longbottom. "You could've told me you were visiting," he added to Harry and Ron.

"It was kind of last minute," Ginny explained, avoiding Neville's eyes.

"Surprised Malfoy even let you in, the git."

"It took some convincing," Harry said vaguely, leaving out the details. "Pulled the auror card and all that."

"Well then. Why can't you take me to visit?"

Harry looked around the room as if searching for a story. They had agreed not to tell anyone else about their midnight visit to Hermione, lest people start pestering Draco for their own visits. Instead, they had made it sound like their visit was a legitimate, one time experience that they had acquired by chance. "Ah.. Regulations." Harry knew his story was very flimsy, but he never was good at that sort of thing.

"I hate that Malfoy is 'taking care of her,'" Neville sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I wouldn't doubt if he is trying to kill her."

Before anyone could respond, an owl flew in through Hagrid's window carrying the Daily Prophet. Hagrid gave the bird a coin and threw the paper on the table for the others to page through. He was busy feeding Fang at the moment. Neville got to the paper first, and the expression on his face when he saw the front page was a cross between rage and nausea.

"What- I- Is this-" He seemed unable to form a coherent sentence, so Harry snatched the paper from him and began reading aloud. With every word that he uttered, he felt his stomach drop lower and lower.

**LOVE AT ST. MUNGO'S – AN EXTREME CASE OF STOCKHOLM SYNDROME**

_In the magical hospital of St. Mungo's at this very moment lies a very ill patient by the name of Hermione Granger. As has been reported in this paper several times recently, Granger has been diagnosed with Crupulus, the incurable. Recent reports indicate that Granger's healer, former Death Eater Draco Malfoy, has plans to slowly kill her. While this may have been the case initially, new reports have come forth indicating that Granger and Malfoy have fallen in love._

_The evidence? First, healer Simon Baker indicates that Malfoy behaved very possessively over Granger, especially on the one night where Malfoy had to leave her to Baker's care. He even shunned Baker for weeks after Baker admitted that he found Granger attractive – an extreme case of jealousy. Finally, though it would seem that Granger would never fall for a former Death Eater, sources have said that Granger and Malfoy have even kissed. Yes, it seems that Granger has fallen victim to yet another medical condition; Stockholm Syndrome._

_While this story of forbidden romance may be enchanting to some, this reporter has to wonder if there is some ulterior motive involved. _

_Rita Skeeter_

"How did she find out?" Ginny gasped in horror when Harry was done. "I thought Hermione only told us about- about-" She stopped talking at the looks Harry and Ron were giving her. She had quite forgotten that Hagrid and Neville were in the room.

"Wait a minute," Neville said slowly. "This- this is _true?_"

No one wanted to answer him.

"You mean to say that- that Hermione's been turning me down for _years_, and she spends two months with that slimey bastard and falls for him?" Neville's face was turning bright red in anger. "Has she forgotten how he treated her?"

"Neville," Ginny began, trying to make up for her mistake. "I – He's changed, she said."

"_Changed?_" Neville was outraged, and it was showing in his voice. "She thinks he's _changed?_"

"Well, I mean, he did apologize, and-"

"He's manipulating her, obviously!" Neville shouted, drowning out Ginny's voice. "Doesn't she see? Or is she too blinded by his good looks? She never even gave me a chance, and now she's snogging that git?"

"Maybe he's jus'… misunderstood," Hagrid pitched in, glancing at a picture of Norberta the Norwegian Ridgeback as he said it.

"Misunderstood. Right. That _must_ be it. Thanks Hagrid." Harry had never seen Neville so mad before, not even when Bellatrix Lestrange was taunting him about his parents.

Hagrid didn't seem too hurt by Neville's comments. "'Mione knows what she's doin'. She musta had a good reason ter forgive him."

Neville scoffed at that but couldn't seem to find an argument for it. "I need to talk to her," he said.

"Neville, we already told you – regulations and what not…" Harry knew that his excuse was even more pathetic in the midst of Neville's anger, but he really didn't want Neville to run to Draco's boss and demand a visit, because as far as he knew, there had never been any visit.

"I'll find a way," Neville stated shortly, and disapparated.

Draco was really, really getting sick of waking up to find out that another article had been written about him and Hermione. He was especially getting sick of the fact that the articles contained a lot of facts. It was a lot harder to deny facts, especially to your mother.

"Is this true?" Narcissa Malfoy demanded of him while he lay in bed with no idea what she meant. He opened his eyes groggily and stared at her, confused.

"Is this true?" she repeated, holding up a newspaper. Draco's stomach dropped. What had they written about him now?

Draco sat up and snatched the paper from his mother, reading it through quickly. He was getting ready to deny the article when his mother spoke again. "I can't believe it. It's true."

Draco opened his mouth to deny, deny, deny, but his mother cut him off. "Don't say anything, Draco. The look on your face tells me all I need to know."

She swept out of the room. Draco knew from past experience that she wanted to be followed, so he jumped out of bed and ran after her.

"Mother!" he called. "Mother, wait!" He shouldn't have to explain himself, really; it was his life and he would make his own choices, but he loved his mother and knew that when she was angry, she loved being doted on, followed, and begged for forgiveness. He would cater to her just this once.

He caught up with her in the parlor, where she sat stiffly on the Slytherin green couch. She looked at him coldly as he entered. "You have betrayed everything your father and I ever taught you."

He didn't know what to say to that. It was true. Kissing a muggle-born _did_ go against everything they'd taught him.

"You've fallen in love with a mudblood. How could this have happened?" Her voice displayed little emotion, but her face was pained. "We raised you so well. You always hated that girl, always."

Draco sighed. There was no way he was going to be able to erase years of prejudice with one conversation. He didn't even know where to begin.

"I didn't mean for it to happen," he said honestly. It was one of the few true things he could say that wouldn't further anger her.

"What would your father say?" Narcissa asked him. Even she seemed terrified at the idea. "His only son in love with a mudblood. I can only pray no one thinks to show him the Prophet today…"

"We're not in love, mother." He almost added, _and stop calling her a mudblood,_ but he managed to bite his tongue in time.

She didn't seem to hear him. "My only son… I had such grand plans for you… Such a successful career… You could have any pureblood witch you choose, and you choose her…"

"There aren't many pureblood witches to choose from," Draco pointed out, again honestly. Purebloods were a dying breed. The only ones near his age that he could think of were Pansy Parkinson, the Greengrass sisters, and the Weasley girl. "And you know I've dated all the ones reasonably within my age range. None were my type."

"Do you think your father and I liked each other on the first date?" Narcissa asked. "Of course not. But we needed to keep our bloodline pure. We married not out of love, but out of obligation. Love grew from that." She sighed dramatically. "My granddaughter will be a mudblood…"

Draco's mouth dropped open. "Granddaughter? I think you're moving a little fast."

Narcissa chose to ignore him once again. "Your reputation- My reputation- will be ruined, our bloodline spoiled, the Malfoy name besmirched. Are you really willing to do that for _her?_"

Draco closed his eyes and prayed for patience. He didn't want to yell at his mother; he'd only done that once before, and had hated doing it; but he was getting very close to breaking point.

"Filthy mudblood whore," his mother snapped angrily. "Who does she think she is, to be kissing a Malfoy?"

Breaking point reached.

Draco jumped out of his seat. "She didn't molest me, mother. I kissed _her,_ and mother. And I did so _willingly._" His mother looked shocked, and started to speak, but Draco didn't let her start. "If anything, dating Hermione would _help_ my reputation. If you hadn't noticed, sticking to your insane pureblood ideals has damaged my reputation more than kissing a muggle-born ever could. I've changed. I'm not a vulnerable, malleable child anymore. I can form my own opinions and I've concluded that your ideals are crap. Hermione is smarter and more beautiful than any pureblood witch I've ever seen, and I feel absolutely no guilt whatsoever about kissing her."

His mother's face reflected her anger. "Your father would disown you if he heard what you just said to me!" she screamed.

"Let him!" Draco yelled back, completely enraged. "Having the name of Malfoy has done me much more harm than good!"

He stormed out of the room, leaving his mother with her mouth agape.


	23. Chapter 21

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, especially the more recent ones. They're the main reason this story is still even in my mind. Sorry for the long stretch between updates, once again. This wasn't going to be a chapter on its own but I figured since I had most of it written, I'd post it just to give an update. So if it seems... incomplete? That's why. Don't judge.  
**

* * *

Ever since Neville Longbottom had killed Nagini, he had become just as famous as Harry Potter. Well, _almost_ as famous. It didn't hurt when Harry had explained that without Neville, he wouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort.

Getting girls was no longer an issue for him. There was only one girl he wanted: Hermione. But that didn't mean he couldn't use his fame to his advantage.

"It's like this, Michelle," he said to the blonde healer. He knew the girl quite well; he frequently went to St. Mungo's to visit his parents, and the girl seemed drawn to his fame. She'd even asked him out a few times, but he'd always refused her. Neville leaned against the doorway to her office. "I've got a friend in here. Desperately sick, but not allowed visitors." He paused, trying to think of how to best approach the subject. He decided to just barrel right in. "I want to see her. Think you could make that happen?"

Michelle looked torn. Neville knew what she was thinking. She wanted to help him, to get in his good graces. But she didn't want to let him see another girl, not if she was competition. So Neville smiled charmingly and said, "We're just friends, of course."

It probably wouldn't have convinced anyone else, but Michelle was willing to believe it. "I guess I could let you in… if you promise not to tell anyone." She sounded wary, and she should be: If she were caught, she'd be in big trouble. Neville wasn't going to let her get caught.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"You were talking about Hermione Granger, right?" Michelle asked as she stood and began leading him through the hospital. Of course she would know; Hermione's name had been thrown about after the war almost as much as his had been, and it was easy to assume that one celebrity would know another.

"Yep," Neville said, fakely happy, because as he drew closer to Hermione's room, his excitement at seeing her mixed with his anger at her betrayal. She had kissed _Malfoy, _and no matter how sick she was, she was going to explain herself.

Michelle opened the door for him. "I'll just… could we have some privacy?" he asked her, and she nodded.

"I'll be in my office when you're done," she said in what he guessed was supposed to be a seductive voice, as though he owed her something. Which he probably did. He just nodded, because he was nervous, and the lump in his throat was too big to talk around.

Hermione was asleep, and upon seeing her, he almost forgot that he was angry. She looked horrible and beautiful at the same time. Her curly hair that he'd always loved was splayed across her pillow, just as he'd remembered it. Her expression was peaceful, almost happy, in her sleep, even though she had a life threatening disease. She was beautiful because he hadn't seen her in months. But he couldn't ignore the obvious changes she'd gone through; she was skinny and pale, and you could tell by one glance that she was sick.

He didn't want to fight with her, not really. But he couldn't push the image of her kissing Malfoy out of his mind. So he cleared his throat to wake her up, instead of gently brushing her hair back like he wanted to. He pictured Malfoy doing it, and almost gagged.

Her eyes fluttered open, and she looked at him, squinting. He just stood there with his hands in his pockets, not looking at her. Finally, she seemed to register that he was there.

"Neville?" she said quietly. "Am I dreaming?"

The idea that she would dream about him coming to visit her sent waves of unfounded happiness through him, and that made him scoff. "No," he said shortly.

She seemed to pick up on his bad mood. She sat up, adjusted her shirt, and looked at him curiously. "Is something… wrong?" She seemed just as nervous as he was, and he wondered if, with her brain, if she already knew why he'd come.

"Yes." Short, clipped, angry. He waited for her to ask what it was.

She already knew.

"Neville, I'm sorry, just let me explain."

Neville looked at the floor. "That's why I'm here."

She took a deep, slow breath, as if she'd been anticipating that he would come. He wanted to tell her she was self centered, to think that her being with Malfoy would bother him. But he couldn't, because he'd given her every reason to think that it would.

And so had Malfoy.

"He's… he's not the same person."

Neville had been expecting the excuse. "It doesn't matter if he is. You never even gave me a chance, Hermione. You've known me for _years_, and you wouldn't even go on a single date with me. And I've never, EVER done anything to hurt you. And I wouldn't. And you know it."

Hermione looked extremely guilt ridden. He didn't want to have this argument while she was sick, but he didn't know when else he was supposed to do it. And he'd already been waiting years.

She didn't speak, so he continued. "And he treated you like dirt in school. He thought you were _less_ than dirt. He harassed all of your friends, he- Hermione, he was a _death eater._ Don't you remember this? Have you gone completely mental? Should I book you a bed next to my parents?" He grabbed his hair, as if to rip it out. "I just don't understand it."

She didn't flare up, as he'd been expecting. As he'd been almost hoping. If she got mad, he could yell and scream and rant all he wanted. But if she sat there, looking guilty and almost ready to cry, he wouldn't be able to get angry like he wanted to.

"People can change, Neville. Draco has. He-"

Her use of Malfoy's first name sent his stomach dropping into his shoes. "So it's Draco now, is it?" he snapped, unable to contain himself. He began pacing, shooting out all of his thoughts in a stream of constant words. It was almost as if he was saying them to himself rather than to her. "A couple of months with him, and he's changed. You're willing to date _him_. But not me, never me. I was never good enough. Never handsome enough, I suppose, maybe that's why you're so willing to forgive him. I could have all the fame and money in the world and it wouldn't matter. One date, that's all I ever asked, just one date." His hands were clenched so tightly into fists that his knuckles were white.

"First of all, I'm not with Draco because I think he's _handsome._ You know me better than that." It was the one bit of anger she let slip through. Neville jerked his head in a nod; he did know. "Neville," Hermione said in a pleading voice. "You're one of my best friends. You're like a brother to me. You know what happened with Ron, and I don't-" she swallowed, hard. "I don't want anything like that to happen again. It almost destroyed our friendship."

"So I guess dating your _enemies_ is your only other option," he said coldly.

"He's not my enemy – he never was, really. He was just a kid who grew up with the wrong ideals being planted inside his head by his parents. Just a stupid, messed up kid. I assure you, he's not the same person anymore."

"So you're telling me that if he walked in here right now, he'd be perfectly civil to me? He wouldn't call me names like he used to? He'd be a perfect gentleman?"

Hermione stared at him. "Well, he's… " she stumbled for something to say. "He's got a pride problem," she finished lamely.

Neville snorted. "Pride problem. Right." He turned to leave. "I'll never understand why you're doing this."

"Neville, wait," Hermione begged, and he would have left under any other circumstances. But she was on her death bed, and no matter how mad he was, he wasn't heartless. He stopped, but he didn't turn around. "I'm… I'm sorry I never gave you a chance. But like I said, I didn't want to ruin our friendship. I was scared, and I'm sorry you had to suffer for it." She paused, and he turned to look at her. She was silently crying. "I love you, Neville, I really do. Just not in that way. I'm sorry."

Neville had always known it was true, that she didn't feel the same way about him. But somehow hearing it from her made it more real. "Hermione, don't… don't cry." He walked over to her, sat on her bed. "I'm sorry I…" He dragged his hand slowly over his face. "Your relationships are your decisions. I shouldn't have come."

"I'm glad you came," she told him, touching his arm lightly. "I really am sorry."

Neville shrugged. He didn't know what to say.

"He feels bad for how he treated you, you know," Hermione said gently. "He would never say it to your face. But he does."

Neville scoffed. "You're lying."

"No, really. He told me. He said he didn't feel too guilty about Harry and Ron, because they fought him back. But he does feel bad for what he did to you."

"He should." If Hermione thought she was going to change his mind about Malfoy, she was wrong.

"I know it won't change your opinion of him, but I still wanted you to know." She sighed and leaned back into her pillows. There was an awkward silence between them. Then they spoke at the same time.

"I should've given you a chance."

"I shouldn't have tried to force you on a date."

They laughed awkwardly. "You go first," Hermione said.

Neville sighed. "I shouldn't have tried to pressure you to go out with me. But I just… You know." His cheeks flushed. "I've always had a crush on you. And then, after the whole Nagini thing… I can never tell if girls like me because of me or because of my fame. I knew you weren't like that. And I guess I just…" he trailed off, and his cheeks flushed brighter. "I really like you, Hermione. But I should have respected your wishes."

"I didn't want to lead you on," Hermione said, brutally honest. "if I went out with you, I was worried you'd think I wanted more than I did. You're like a brother to me, Neville. I just can't think of you like that. I figured it'd be safer to reject you outright than to get involved in something and have to break it off. I-" she looked down into her lap. "I'm sorry. About that, and about Draco. I know it must feel like a betrayal… I know you're trying to protect me. But I need you to believe that I know what I'm doing."

Neville nodded. He knew she was smart, and could make judgements on her own. He hated Malfoy, but it was her choice if she wanted to hate him or not. "I guess this means I've got no chance with you. That I should stop bugging you for dinner." He couldn't conceal the tears in his voice.

"It doesn't mean I don't want to spend time with you," Hermione said gently. "It just means I think you should start dating other women." She touched his shoulder, made him face her. "I don't want to lose you as a friend, Neville."

As much as Neville's heart was broken, he didn't want to lose her, either. So he hugged her. "Never," he whispered into her hair.

Because no matter what happened, he knew that would remain true.

* * *

No matter how justified his anger at his mother was, Draco couldn't help but feel bad for it.

Yes, his mother was being extremely prejudiced and stupid, but he didn't want to break the only familial tie he had left. He couldn't forget that during his time as a Death eater, his mother had been all he'd had. She'd kept him from danger more times than he could count. She'd kept him safe. Throughout the time of the war, she'd been his only family member who had cared about him more than "the cause."

Still, that didn't mean his mother didn't hold the same ideals as his father. She just didn't hold them as strongly. While his father wanted muggles and muggle-borns exterminated, his mother was fine with them as long as they just stayed away from her and her family. Her final betrayal of Voldemort had shown that.

Draco never dreamed that his mother would apologize to him first, but that's exactly what happened. She came into his room late the next day, wringing her hands and looking anxious.

"Draco, may I talk to you for a moment?"

He nodded. He felt that it was best if she thought he was still as angry as he'd been the night before.

His mother sat down on his bed and sighed, trying to find words to start with. Unexpectedly, she began lightly stroking her long fingernails through his hair, as she hadn't done since he was a boy. When he was young, the gesture had tickled him, made him laugh. Now it made him want to cry.

He swallowed. She finally spoke. Her words sounded strained. "I feel I must apology for how I reacted yesterday." She cleared her throat. "I was… shocked, I must admit."

Draco, not knowing what to say, nodded.

"You were raised with a certain set of beliefs. I can't say I'm happy that you broke those beliefs…"

Draco opened his mouth in indignation, but his mother didn't let him speak. "But I must remember that though you're still young in my eyes, you're an adult. Your choices are yours."

Draco heard the unspoken words. _You're young. This is a phase. This won't last._

"I can't say that I _agree_ with your choices," she continued. "But I will support them."

Draco thought it was the best he could hope for.

"Thank you, mother. I appreciate it."

To his horror, his mother became teary-eyed as she looked at him. "I love you, Draco. You're my only son and I just… I want the best for you."

Draco, extremely uncomfortable with crying women, said, "I know."

Narcissa wiped her eyes, the brief moment of weakness forgotten. She stood. "I'm glad we can put this whole mess behind us. Will Miss Granger have dinner with us, once she's cured?"

Draco almost laughed at the look he knew Hermione would give him when he asked her to have dinner with his mother. "I'm sure she'd love to," he said with a genuine smile.

"Good." She paused, as if unsure what to say next. "Well… have a nice day, son."

"You too, mother." Then she swept out of the room.


	24. Chapter 22

**A/N: I have come to despise this story. I don't know if its because I've read it eighteen million times or what. **

**I think I'm nearing the end, which is good considering how I never update. For all I know this chapter sucks but I'm just trying to get this done so I can stop thinking about it finally. Thanks everyone for sticking with the story even with the huuuuuuuuuuuuge waits between updates. I think there may be only 2-3 more chapters left. But then again I never though this story would be over 20 chapters. I'm bad at estimating.**

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Draco was extremely nervous to see Hermione after a whole week of no communication. He was sure, from what he'd seen of her and Ron's fights at Hogwarts, that she would still be mad at him. She was well known for holding a grudge. Draco was not one to grovel or beg, but he was almost ready to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness if she was still mad. After all, he'd made considerable progress on the cure; at least, he thought he had, and he was excited to share it with her.

When he arrived at St. Mungo's, he was greeted with petrified glances from his smaller coworkers, and blatant stares from the beefier ones. He thought they were probably scared of him, or suspicious, because of all the rubbish Rita Skeeter had been writing. He felt his anger flare again, thinking of how hard it had been to earn these people's trust in the first place. Now she'd tarnished his reputation again. He'd seen people give the very same sorts of looks to Lucius when he was in his prime. He wanted to snap at the people as they stared, but felt that would only worsen the situation.

Merlin, he hoped Hermione wasn't still mad. He needed to rant to somebody.

Before going to Hermione's room, he stopped by Michelle's office to get reports of any changes that had occurred. When Michelle answered her door, she, too, looked scared of him. He couldn't contain his anger any longer.

"Merlin, Michelle, I'm not going to hex you," he snapped.

She didn't look reassured. "Draco, Hermione is… well, I mean, I was _going_ to owl you, but I knew you would – well you weren't allowed in the hospital, were you? So I couldn't very well do- I mean, it's not my _fault,_ so there's no way you can-"

"Michelle. You're not making any sense. What happened?" Draco felt his heart beat increase.

She sighed, seemed to brace herself for an oncoming storm. "It's Hermione. She's gotten worse. I think the disease may be progressing faster than expected."

Draco swallowed, tried to keep his cool. "How do you know?"

"She can't keep any food down, only liquids. And the potions you told me to use – they don't work unless she drinks almost more than she can handle. So she's in pain almost constantly. And then there's the coughing-"

"Enough," Draco said, holding up a hand. "Why wasn't I informed?"

Michelle's look of fear increased. "As I said, I- you weren't allowed here and I thought if I mentioned it, you'd break your suspension and-"

"A person's _life_ is at risk here. I don't care about my _suspension._"

Michelle didn't say anything. Her eyes were wide. Before he could do anything he'd regret, Draco left her office, slamming the door behind him.

How was it that he was the only person with sense in the world?

* * *

Hermione was asleep when he entered her room. He wasn't surprised, as it was probably the only reprieve from pain that she had. He walked quietly to her bed. She looked terrible. She was thin, her eyes had large bags under them, and her breathing sounded ragged and harsh.

Yes, it seemed the symptoms of the Crupulus were almost completely resistant to potions treatment. This meant the disease had progressed far faster than he'd predicted, and if he didn't act fast, she may not live through this.

How was he supposed to tell her _that?_

He had some cure prototypes, of course; he'd been working almost nonstop throughout the week. But that's all they were, prototypes. And in Hermione's current state, they didn't really have time for guesswork, for administering one cure and giving it a day or two to see if it worked. They needed a solution _now_, if she was going to make it. But knowing that he needed it didn't make it any easier to come up with.

He tried not to think about how he would feel if she died under his care.

He didn't want to wake her, but he didn't want to waste time with her sleeping that could be spent working on testing possible cures. On top of that, he supposed he should inform her friends of her deteriorated state – after all, he had promised visiting rights if it looked – if it appeared as though…

He wouldn't even think the words. It made them too real.

He turned to leave the room, to owl her friends and draw up a bit of potion to give to her. But as he opened the door, he heard a quiet, raspy voice say his name.

"Draco?"

It didn't sound like Hermione.

He turned around. "I didn't want to wake you."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault. I…" she grimaced and wrapped her arms around her stomach tightly. "I can't sleep very well lately."

Draco didn't know what to say. So he said nothing. He couldn't look her in the eye.

"It's bad, isn't it?" she asked.

For once in his life, Draco didn't want to lie. But he couldn't tell the truth. "It's… you'll be fine. I've got some potions in my office.."

"Don't lie, Draco," she snapped. "I know – I'm not stupid. I can see all over your face."

He didn't bother denying it.

"I wasn't expecting it to progress this fast."

Her face fell. She looked away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said to her bed sheet. Draco hadn't been expecting an apology.

"Don't be. I deserved it."

"No. I mean…" she trailed off, tugged on a stray curl nervously. "I'm sorry for, you know. Us. Becoming involved. I shouldn't have … it was selfish." She laughed in a sad way.

Draco was dumbfounded. "Uh…"

"Let's just pretend nothing ever happened, alright?"

Draco shook his head, walked over to her bed and sat next to her. He saw tears welling up in her eyes, but as she was trying to fight them, he didn't acknowledge them. He pulled her into a hug, and she leaned into his chest. "Even if… Even if you, you know, don't… which isn't going to happen, but if it did, I wouldn't want to forget that this happened. If nothing else you showed me that I shouldn't judge people based on things like blood. So if it doesn't work out with you, there's a pretty hot muggle-born that works in the coffee shop down the street that I wouldn't have given the time of day to before I … got closer to you."

Hermione laughed. And the laughter turned into tears.

Draco held her until she fell asleep.

* * *

When Hermione awoke, Ron, Harry, Ginny and Neville were sitting in cushy armchairs against the wall of her room.

It should make her happy to see them, but she knew what it meant. She was dying. Draco had said they'd only be allowed to visit if she didn't have much time left.

Upon noticing her awake, Neville abruptly left the room. Harry, Ron and Ginny stood up and walked to her bedside. They tried to appear nonchalant, though Hermione could tell they'd all been crying.

Neville returned seconds later with Draco, who had a small bottle in his hand. "Sorry to interrupt this reunion," he said in his normal scathing tone, as he couldn't help but revert to his usual self around her friends. "But we need to start testing cures if … we just need to start testing."

Hermione drank the potion, inquired as to the ingredients. Draco gave her a condensed list, and she nodded appreciatively, and smiled in false hope.

"I'll be better by tomorrow."

* * *

Hermione was not better by tomorrow. In fact, she was worse.

Her coughs were harsh and painful. She threw up almost everything she got down. She had hot and cold flashes, and the cramps in her stomach were absolutely horrible. Her friends had stayed late into the night and returned early the next morning, except Ginny, who stayed home to watch Teddy but who was on alert for any news sent from Harry. Draco was in despair, as he had given Hermione the cure he thought had the best hope of working, and it had seemed to only intensify the disease.

He knew he was missing something vital, but what?

He sat in his office, flipping through books, pulling out his hair and occasionally kicking over random objects in frustration. The time pressure was getting to him and he knew that he would fail, knew without a doubt that Hermione would die and it would be his fault, and if she died, well, he might as well count his career over, as Skeeter would surely speculate that it was him that did it, and surely Potter and Weasley would kill him, or at least get him sent to Azkaban. Worst of all, Hermione would be gone, and maybe it would be better to die than to live with the guilt that would surely bring.

There was a knock on his door. Then Potter barged in without waiting for a response.

"Hermione wants to see you."

Draco practically ran to her room.

Hermione was practically hidden under a mass of blankets – she must be having a cold flash. Her eyelids were drooping, as though she were about to fall asleep, but when she saw him he saw her make an effort to stay awake, as though she had something important to say.

"Draco," she said, and it was so quiet that he barely heard. He leaned close, put his ear towards her. "I was reading… _Crupulus, the Incurable…_ Draco, I wondered, did you try…. Skelegro?"

Saying those words seemed to drain all of her energy, and before he could even question her, she was unconscious.


	25. Chapter 23

**A/N: I think there may only be one chapter left. I can't believe I am so close to an ending. I also can't believe this story took me over a year to complete. Embarrassing.**

**Hope you like the chapter. **

* * *

In all of his years as a healer, Draco had never had to give any patient's parent's bad news. He always healed his patients quickly and got them home good as new. Even in the case of prolonged magical illnesses or dark curses, Draco seemed to have a natural ability to cure. No, Draco had never had to tell anyone's parent's that their child was in a coma, and he wasn't about to start now.

So he made Potter do it.

"You know them," Draco insisted. "They'll take the news better from you. Trust me, I'm a healer. I know these things."

Draco didn't know these things, as he'd never been in this situation.

Potter was resistant. He crossed his arms. "It's the doctor's job to do that sort of thing."

"Doctor? What are you on about, Potter? Anyway, just go tell them. They're already here, they know something is up." Draco was almost ready to beg. He just couldn't face her parents, their eventual tears, their questions. He had work to do, he needed to remain emotionally uninvolved for the moment.

"Malfoy, you need to-"

"What _I _need to do, Potter, is get this potion ready. Hermione doesn't have much time. Now go tell her parents before I use the imperius curse and _force_ you to." Draco wasn't very good at the Imperius curse, but Potter didn't need to know that.

Potter left the office, grumbling some choice words about Draco under his breath.

Draco couldn't believe that he hadn't thought of Skelegro before. It had been right in front of him. If he'd only noticed it sooner, if he hadn't resisted Hermione's help, she may have already been cured. She could have been out of the hospital and they could've started a real relationship. Draco could almost laugh at the fact that Hermione had managed to outsmart him, even though she was dying. It was the dying part that prevented the laughter.

Hermione had been unconscious for a little more than a day now. He had been forced to admit that she would probably not wake up again unless he managed to cure her. He didn't know how long the coma would last before she would be unwakeable and he didn't want to think about it. He hadn't stopped working on the potion to eat or sleep and he wasn't planning to until he had a product he was ninety-nine percent sure would work.

Time was always working against him. If only he could just add Skelegro to one of his existing prototypes, but no – the ingredients wouldn't mix properly. Things had to be reconsidered, toxicity tested, and there was the compatibility of the components to consider.

Draco worked tirelessly into the night – Potter returned briefly to inform him that Hermione had not woken up and that her parents were insisting on staying in the room with her. Draco noticed that Potter's eyes were red and puffy. Normally this would be something Draco could make fun of, but it was hard to do when Draco felt the same way.

Finally, when the second day was turning into the second night, Draco came up with something he was satisfied with. If he was going to stake his life on any cure, it would be this one. It should work. It had to work. It couldn't _not_ work. He didn't even want to think about the consequences of it not working.

Hermione's room was crowded, almost to the point of angering him. The room wasn't huge, and with her parents, Potter, two Weasleys, and Longbottom, there was hardly room to move. He was surprised Hermione wasn't waking up just to scold them all about fire regulations, or something. Surely they were breaking _some_ rule.

"I thought you had to watch your brat," Draco commented to the more female of the Weasleys. Well, the more female of the Potters, he supposed.

Ginny glared at him, but the tears in her eyes lessened the effect. "He's at his grandmother's."

"Do you have something?" Ron asked, indicating the bottle Draco held.

"I certainly hope so," Draco responded, walking to Hermione's side. Her parents were sitting in chairs next to her bed, and her father was grasping her hand. It was a painful sight. Her mother, like Ginny, had tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. Hermione just laid there, oblivious to the pain of those surrounding her.

Since she was unconscious, Draco needed to magic the potion into her body. There was a spell for unconscious potion administering, also useful in the rare case that someone's mouth stopped working, and he used it expertly. Hermione's breathing was slow and even.

The only thing left to do was wait.

* * *

Hermione heard voices around her, but she couldn't open her eyes. She felt like the world was spinning; she couldn't remember where she was or why, and she couldn't make out who the voices belonged to as they continued to speak, obscenely loud, above her.

"Potter, I need you to take off the bandage. Do it – don't give me that look, just do it!"

A gagging noise, multiple voices talking at once.

"What should we do?"

"Is that – a _leg?_"

"Go and get another healer – _now!_ The first one you see! Then get Astley, and be quick about it!"

"What are we going to _do?_"

Hermione tried to stay conscious, but something was dragging her back under, and she heard one final sentence before everything went black.

"Hold on, Hermione."

* * *

Once again, Hermione came into consciousness, but it felt different this time. There weren't frenzied voices shouting above her. She heard quiet whispering to her left, but she couldn't make out the words. She felt as if she could open her eyes. She blinked slowly, and the world was blurry; she couldn't make out where she was. She continued to blink, and she heard a voice call out loudly beside her.

"She's awake!"

But she felt tired, so incredibly tired. Her eyes were too blurry to see and so she closed them. She felt someone grab her hand, and she tried to squeeze back, but she lacked energy. Her hand gave a weak twitch.

"Hermione, can you hear me?" said a familiar voice, but many familiar voices were talking to her, all at once, their voices swirling together in her head, and she was annoyed by them. She felt like batting the voices away, because her head hurt and she couldn't focus. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished she had enough energy to cover her ears.

Finally the voices stopped trying to talk over each other, and one strong, confident, joyful sounding voice echoed in her ear.

"Hermione, you're going to make it, but we had to make a few sacrifices…"

It was the last thing she heard before the darkness pulled her under once again.


	26. Epilogue

Hermione leaned on Draco as they walked down the hall of St. Mungo's. It had been so long since she had walked, she was having a lot of trouble with it.

Oh, and there was that minor issue of her being used to walking with _two_ legs, rather than one. Adapting was rather difficult.

"I'm thinking you should go the Mad-eye Moody route," Draco was saying as he supported the majority of her weight. "You know, wooden leg. Might be a good look."

Hermione snorted and struggled to move the crutch she had tucked under her right arm. "Yeah, right."

"Don't discount it until you try it."

Hermione ignored him. "Muggles have prosthetic legs. They can make them look pretty real. Might have to do that. And I'm sure magic could improve them considerably."

"You could just stay in bed the rest of your life." Draco was getting impatient now and was almost dragging her down the hallway. "Merlin, you're slow."

"I never want to get in another bed again," Hermione whined, ignoring his last comment. "I've spent the last couple of months in one."

"Not even with me as your faithful servant?"

"Draco, I could hardly afford you as my servant. All of my money is going to be spent on hospital bills."

"Oh, don't worry about those," Draco said nonchalantly. "Taken care of."

Hermione stopped walking and jerked her arm away from him, managing, just barely, to balance on her crutch. "I told you _I'd_ take care of those."

"Hermione, it's not a problem. I was rich _before_ the cure – now it's just excessive. Anyway, you're the one who thought of Skelegro, so I owe you half the profits."

"You saved my life, you prat. You don't owe me anything."

"You saved your own life, really," Draco pointed out as he put his arm back around Hermione and forced her to resume walking down the hall. "All I did was remove your infectious leg. But glad I could help."

"I'm serious, Draco, I don't want your money."

"Fine, you can pay me back." Draco smirked at her. "I want to finish _Lost_ together. I need to know if Kate ends up with Jack or Sawyer."

Hermione smiled at him. "You drive a hard bargain, Malfoy. But I think I can manage."

"One more thing." Hermione looked at him, eyebrows raised expectantly.

"You need to take me on ten dates. I think that should cover what you owe."

Hermione tried to slap him on the arm, and almost lost her balance in the process. "Taking you to the kinds of places you're used to would run me more dry than the hospital bills would."

"Fine," Draco said, as he pulled Hermione against him. "I'm paying."

the end

**A/N: This is a short last chapter, I know. But I figure since the story is almost 60,000 words a short epilogue would be okay. **

**I am soooo glad this story is over. I'd like to thank akaStrobe, who beta'd most of this story for me until her real life understandably got in the way for the last few chapters. So any mistakes are my own. I'd also like to thank my reviewers, since if this story hadn't received reviews I probably would have just quit it. Also I thank my boyfriend who forced me, practically against my will, to continue writing this story to its completion. It is a good day to finish this story as it is my birthday in 20 minutes, so it's like a birthday present to finally have it done and not have to worry about it anymore. **

**Basically I favor the whole "open ending" concept so ... that's what I tried to do and if I failed, I apologize. **

**I can't think of anything else to say except that I will probably eventually write another story and post it here (I already have one started) so if you think you'd like to read it you can add me to author alerts, otherwise I might just update on this story to let people know when I've started posting it (might not be for awhile, since I want to finish it before I start posting it.) I want to give a teaser though:**

"We've already donated countless amounts to the restoration effort," Draco ticked off on his fingers as he continued, "personally labored to help restore Hogwarts, you've done an interview with _The Quibbler_, and we've even given money to _muggle_ charities. Short of me hooking up with a Mud-"

"Draco, that word."

Draco cleared his throat. He and his mother were trying to eliminate the word "mudblood" from their vocabularies so that they'd never be caught saying it in public. "_Muggle-born_, I don't think there's anything we can do."

His mother's eyes lit up at the last thing he said, and Draco suddenly realized his mistake. He began backtracking instantly. "Not that I would be willing to do that," he rushed out, but his mother's expression didn't change. "Mother," he said after a pause. "It was a joke."

Narcissa nodded blankly, her expression still the same, one of revelation. "That's nice, dear." She stood up, straightening her deep purple robes. "I'll just be…" she gestured in a random direction and took off walking without completing her sentence.

Draco wondered if he should be worried.

**So, there you have it. Thanks for reading and reviewing and I hope you all like the ending (and even if you don't, well, it will just have to be like the actual HP epilogue, huh? At least there's no Albus Severus in mine.)**


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